


I always wanted a real home with flowers on the window sill

by fardareismai, WhoLockGal



Series: Where You Lead [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gilmore Girls Setting, F/F, F/M, Family Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Past Relationships, Slow Build, captain swan endgame, single parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai/pseuds/fardareismai, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoLockGal/pseuds/WhoLockGal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small town in Maine that's chock-full of Characters, and everyone's looking for happiness and love, one way or another.</p><p>OUAT Gilmore Girls AU, First Installment</p><p>(Please note, Captain Swan is the endgame of this series, but it's not where it starts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Hello, Dearies!**
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> **What you are seeing here is the first story in a new series of stories that Wholockgal and I have been working on since the spring. It combines our shared love of Captain Swan and all things OUAT with our shared (and much older) love of all things Gilmore and Stars Hollow.**
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> **It's the Captain Swan, Gilmore Girls AU you didn't know you needed!**
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> **This series started as fic tennis, so for the first few chapters there was a different author for each, but WLG is a wonderful human being and friend and allowing me to publish her chapters under my name for the sake of convenience to you (that's right, YOU) our most beloved readers.**
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> **We'd, both of us, love to give a shout-out to Fleurdeneuf, who is always supportive and helped us come to an agreement on the naming convention for these stories.**
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> **That brings me to the following point: this is actually going to be a fic series! The title of the series is "Where You Lead" and each one will be named after a different lyric in the song and will (we hope) be published in chronological order (unless our rabid headcanoning gets to be too wild for us to keep in order). Chapters will be published on our shared favorite holiday, Fanfiction Friday.**
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> **We look forward to this adventure with all of you!**

The bell over the door to the Jolly Roger tinkled merrily in direct contrast to the brilliant blue eyes narrowed in annoyance at the boy who was crossing the sparkling linoleum to the pristine countertop.

The boy gave a bright smile to the scowling proprietor. "I need a large coffee, please, Mr. Jones," he said, flashing his dimpled smile that could charm almost anyone in town.

"Not a chance, lad. You start drinking coffee at your age and you'll grow up to be a mad person like your mum."

Rather than being offended, the boy just smiled wider. "The coffee is for her. I want a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon."

"Have you or your mum eaten any real food today, or are you both planning on running on sugar and caffeine?"

The boy shrugged but his smile didn't go anywhere. "Why mess with what works?"

The man sighed and turned away to fiddle with the implements in his kitchen while the boy settled himself on a bar stool, his backpack on the stool beside him.

The bell over the door tinkled again and a blonde woman who looked half-asleep and half-crazed rushed in to where the boy had settled himself.

"Hey kid," she said, brushing a kiss over the soft brown hair that stuck up slightly from the crown of his head. "You order already?"

"You realize you're already running late, don't you, Swan?" The man behind the counter asked.

"You ordered them to go?" she asked the boy, completely ignoring the man. Her son nodded. "Good, no worries there then."

She reached over to a glass-covered display of doughnuts and lifted aside the lid. She was just about to reach for the large bear claw sitting in the middle when her knuckles were smacked sharply with a pair of stainless steel tongs that were then shoved into her hands.

"Don't touch the food, Swan," the owner said, shaking his head in exasperation. "Are you planning on paying for that? I have a business to run, you know."

"And considering how much _business_ Henry and I provide you, we're probably due a few free doughnuts, don't you think?"

The blue eyes rolled themselves back expressively, and Emma winked at Henry who was laughing silently. He pulled out a pair of napkins and she set the bear claw she'd been reaching for on one, and a jelly-filled on the other.

"I don't want to place odds on that being the closest thing to fruit Henry eats today, do I?"

Two white insulated cups appeared on the counter in front of Henry and the proprietor continued talking, though it was clear that his audience was completely uninterested.

"Tea is what you should be drinking. Green tea. No sugar. You'll feel much more energized and I'll bet you sleep better at night as well. And no red meat or processed sugars either. Five servings of vegetables a day… quit smirking, Swan, you know I'm right!"

Emma tried to suppress her smile, but failed. "What do I owe you for the doughnuts and the drinks, Jones?"

He glared for another moment before huffing through his nose. "Three dollars fifty."

He was giving them the doughnuts for free, as she had known he would. As they had all known he would.

As Emma dug in her purse for the money, the bell over the diner's door sounded again.

"Killian Jones!"

Everyone in the place jumped at the sound of the mayor's barking voice.

Emma glanced down at her phone. "Is it that time already? We _are_ running late."

"Jones, your trash cans are still sitting on the curb. Pick-up was an hour and forty-five minutes ago. You know the cans need to be put away within an hour of pick-up!"

The mayor was a tall, powerfully-built older man, completely bald, and self-consciously aware that being the mayor of a town of barely 1000 souls in rural Maine gave him no proper power, so he tended to exercise his limited scope in the most annoying ways possible.

Killian, a rebel by nature with the soul of a pirate, found these exacting and needless rules irritating in the extreme, and it was a source of local entertainment to watch the two men butt heads.

"I'll get them!" Henry piped up, sliding off his stool and making a dash for the back door of the diner. Emma grinned to see him go- he idolized Killian and would have spent all his days in the diner if she'd let him.

The mayor watched her son scamper out, then turned to her and Killian with blood in his eye.

"Labor laws say-"

"Oh for god's sake, George!" Emma burst out, "He's doing a favor for a friend. Calm down!"

George Spencer glared at her for another moment, then turned back to Killian. "This kind of thing never happened when Liam was running the place."

George might as well have slapped Killian across the face. The entire diner went silent and still, the tension so dense it seemed to have sucked all the air from the room. Killian's face went still save for the muscle that jumped as his jaw clenched, and hectic color rose high across his cheekbones. His eyes were as bright and hot as flame, glaring the other man down. Emma could see he was close to violence- fists clenched at his side, knuckles white beneath the tanned skin.

Killian had just taken a step toward George when Henry burst back into the diner, breaking the tension with an audible snap.

"The cans are put away now, Mr. Spencer," he trilled cheerfully. "Come on, Mom, we need to go." He scooped up his bag, his drink, and his pastry, youthfully oblivious to the undercurrents of fury still eddying around Killian.

Emma met her friend's eyes as she gathered her own breakfast. Something in his face softened as he looked at her, and she gave him a half smile.

"Bye, Killian!" Henry called from the door, and Emma hurried after him with one last jingle of the bell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **For the pleasure of your Fanfiction Friday, WhoLockGal offers you a delightful chapter.**
> 
> **This one is a little short- when we first started writing this story, we didn't really know how we'd end up presenting it or how long it was going to end up being, so we just wrote it in alternating scenes, and took the length as it came.**
> 
> **Everyone give WLG some love while she's on vacation!**

"Henry! Emma! Wait up!"

Emma and Henry stopped just before reaching their old, beat-up, bright yellow Volkswagen bug. Henry grinned as he turned to see his best friend running toward them, a matching smile on her face.

"Hey, Grace. What's up?"

"Do you have it?" The girl asked, a slight note of pleading in her voice.

Henry awkwardly passed his hot chocolate to his mother while shoving the rest of the jelly donut in his mouth, licking the powdered sugar from his fingers before rifling through his bag.

"I know you're not going to touch the cover with your gross hands," Grace huffed, nearly snatching the backpack from him.

Emma couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped from her at Grace's frustration. "Come on, kid. I have to get to work."

Glaring at them both, Henry pulled out the plastic wrapped volume and presented it to his friend. "Fresh from the Amazon delivery truck, I give you one brand new, never-been-touched edition of _Deadpool Volume 1: Dead Presidents_. Now get off my back and can I please have my drink?"

Careful not to harm the coveted volume, Grace threw her arms around her friend. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Before she could say or do anything else but step back from him, the comic was pulled from her hands and thrown into the car. Looking up at Emma, the question had just barely formed on her lips when there was a sudden yell from behind her.

"Gracie!"

"Hi, Papa," she replied, turning away from her friend.

"Hey, Jefferson," Emma added, smiling. "Busy day ahead?"

"Aren't they all?" He replied with a forced grin. "You forgot your history book, Gracie."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did," he insisted, handing her the book in question.

"But I don't have history today, Papa."

Emma groaned inwardly. She knew the circular conversation that they were heading toward, having been down this road many times before. Sneaking a covert glance at her watch, she saw that - fortunately - the kids were almost late for school.

"Well, look at that," she intervened. "Bell rings in 5 minutes!"

Henry nodded and heaved his bag over his shoulder as Grace took the textbook from her father.

"Thanks, Papa," she said as she stretched up and kissed his cheek.

Jefferson hugged her close for a moment and Emma could see his reluctance to let her go. "Have a good day, sweetheart."

The parents both watched as their children walked off toward the local school. "Grace, wait!" Emma suddenly called. "You're coming to the Inn with Henry after school, right?"

"Oh yeah," Grace grinned. "I'll be there."

Emma nodded, turning to get into the car when the look on Jefferson's face made her pause. "You okay?"

"Yeah… Yes, fine," he replied, still staring in the direction of the school. "You'll keep an eye on her later?"

"Of course!"

"Make sure she finishes her homework, and that she gets something healthy to eat."

"I will, Jefferson. I promise."

"And get her home by-"

"Seven. I know."

With a deep sigh, Jefferson finally turned his gaze away from the school and to Emma, who finally managed to climb into her car. "Thanks, Emma. For everything. Gracie would be lost without you and Henry."

Looking up at the once-broken man standing several feet away from her car door, Emma smiled sadly. "She's a good kid, Jefferson. And she's lucky to have you. I'll make sure she's home on-time, well-educated, and well-fed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Another Wheel chapter for your Fanfiction Friday. My chapters tend to be longer because, while I've often heard the adage "brevity is the soul of wit," I've never actually learned to apply it to my real life.**
> 
> **Keep giving WLG love though, she deserves all of it!**

Emma's heels clicked across the gleaming wooden boards of the Inn's lobby as she scrolled through her day's schedule on her phone. She had a binder that gave her far more in-depth information about each item on her list sitting on her desk in her office, but the bare bones on her phone was a place to start.

Emma had spent much of her life knowing that she wasn't any good. She hadn't been good enough for her birth parents or the dozens of group homes and foster families over the years. She hadn't been good enough for Henry's father, who'd cut and run when she'd told him about her pregnancy. She hadn't been good (or brave) enough to tell the woman who had finally adopted her at 16 in spite of her damage and walls, and had run away the moment she realized that she'd be going this "parenting" thing alone. She hadn't been any good for any of the men who had come in the years since- single mom with metric tons of baggage. She wasn't good at eating like an adult (as Killian was quick to point out on a nearly daily basis), or keeping their house tidy, or remembering to go grocery shopping, or doing laundry before her only options were leopard-print thongs or going commando.

She was a bad daughter, a bad girlfriend, and a bad adult.

But when it came to two things- managing Enchanted Inn and raising Henry- she was brilliant.

She was still working on some of the other parts. She and her adopted mother had come to some kind of accord in the years since Henry had gotten old enough to understand that people didn't appear under cabbage leaves. She would deny Henry nothing that she could give him, and if he wanted a grandmother, she would be sure he had one.

For all that, Regina and Henry got along much better than she and Regina did. Her mother absolutely adored her son, and for that, if nothing else, Emma could not fault her.

She was also working on being a better friend, which was why when Ruby called to her from across the Inn's lobby, she bit back the instinctive sigh at the interruption, and changed her course from her office to the front desk with a smile.

"Four things," Ruby said without preamble, leaning her elbows on the desk in front of her and allowing her silky red top to gape open over her breasts. She ticked each one off on her fingers as she listed them. "Mary Margaret is changing the dinner menu tonight slightly- something about the apples not being up to par, so she's using pears instead."

Emma nodded. She trusted Mary Margaret's hand in the kitchen better than anyone in the world. If everything on Ruby's list was that easy, she didn't mind the interruption.

Second finger. "Granny thinks we need to hire a dedicated handyman around here as Leroy has gotten pretty hard to pin down. She wants you to think if you know anyone, and if you don't you'll need to put out an ad for one, and then do interviews."

Emma huffed out an annoyed breath, but nodded. It was a reasonable request, and she'd considered making the suggestion of a dedicated handyman to Granny a few times as Leroy had become more popular in town and started taking jobs outside the Inn. Besides, she'd do far more onerous things for Granny Lucas.

Third finger. "You have a call."

This time Emma frowned. "Are you doing these in reverse order of importance?"

Ruby grinned, white teeth behind blood-red lips. "Yep," she said, popping the final consonant with pleasure.

"You enjoy ruining my mornings, don't you? I haven't even had a second cup of coffee. Fine, if that's thing three, what's thing four?"

"I have a date."

Emma couldn't help but laugh. Of course Ruby would consider her libido the most important thing on the list.

"I thought you'd made your way through every eligible man in town already," Emma said, rounding the desk to the phone. "Does that mean you finally wore Killian down?"

"No, he's way too much work. I'm beginning to wonder if he even likes girls. And then there's David, of course. I don't poach."

"Not that anyone will admit that going out with Dave would be poaching or anything," Emma agreed. She _really_ should answer the phone, but now she was curious. "So who's the date with?"

"Mulan."

That _was_ surprising. Not Ruby's proclivities, but the fact that Mulan would accept a date. She'd been practically a monk since arriving in Storybrooke two years before when she'd opened the martial arts studio, and rumors had abounded, as they were wont to do in a town this size. It seemed that some of them were even true.

"Okay, you win. I need all the details once I'm off the phone."

Ruby crowed in triumph. She loved to pull Emma into the depths of town gossip simply because Emma tried so hard (in vain) to avoid it.

Emma shook her head and picked up the phone, pressing the flashing red light to take the call on hold.

"Enchanted Inn, this is Emma Swan speaking."

"If I were a customer at your hotel and it took this long to get my queries answered, I'd be looking for a different place to stay."

Emma turned and accusing glare on Ruby who managed a passably convincing innocent look. It was _just_ possible that she hadn't recognized Emma's mother's voice, but Emma wouldn't have laid odds on it. Particularly as she hadn't had Emma answer the phone first thing.

"Well this line actually _is_ for customers, Regina. Why didn't you call my cell?"

"Because you would have ignored me if I had."

Emma cringed slightly. It was true, she probably would have. "Only because I'm working," she lied. Fortunately, Regina lacked Emma's innate ability to tell when someone wasn't being truthful with her.

"I'll be quick then. I want to throw Henry a birthday party."

"His birthday isn't for nearly a month."

Emma could hear the exasperation in her mother's voice over the line. "I know that, Emma, but it will take some time to plan. I thought, since he's turning eleven and I know he's fond of the books that it should be a Harry Potter party."

"That's… actually a really great idea, Regina. I think he'll love that." Emma was impressed and just a bit jealous that she hadn't had the idea herself. She and Mary Margaret (and half the town) had been working on Henry's fairy tale themed party for weeks already. He'd been on a Disney kick for nearly six months, and if she heard "You Can Fly" from Peter Pan one more time, she thought she might break the DVD.

"I'm so glad I have your approval.". Regina's voice was sharp and sarcastic, as was usual, but Emma caught a note of relief as well. For all her bravado, she'd been hoping for Emma's agreement, and that, more than anything, made Emma feel sympathetic toward her mother.

"So from you I'll need a list of his friends from school so I can be sure the invitations get out in plenty of time to have the RSVP count for the caterer well before the 14th."

Emma's goodwill was suddenly gone. "RSVP? Caterer? Mom, it's an eleven-year-old boy's birthday party, not a black-tie wedding! And besides, you can't have it on the 14th, we've already scheduled the birthday party in town for the 14th."

"Henry doesn't need two birthday parties, Emma. Mine will be fine."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Henry's birthday party was practically a town holiday. Everyone knew and loved her son, and everyone was going to want to wish him his happy birthday. Even the thought of the _characters_ of Storybrooke trying to fit into her mother's over-decorated, overly-formal house and world was enough to make her stomach knot in anxiety.

"We're not cancelling our party in town, Mom. He may not need two parties, but he's eleven. There's no reason he can't have two. Just schedule yours for the fifteenth."

"The fifteenth is not Henry's birthday. If you will insist on having a second party, move _yours_ to the fifteenth."

Emma opened her mouth to explain that her party had been in the works for longer and was likely to involve more moving pieces- Mary Margaret and David with the food, Ruby and Granny with the decorations, Killian and Ashley with the music, Mulan and Archie with games… but Regina would not understand.

"I'll ask Henry how he feels about it," Emma said, pulling out her trump card. If Henry wanted the Harry Potter party on the day after his birthday, he would have it and Regina wouldn't fight. If he wanted it on the day of his birthday… well… his charming smile and puppy-dog eyes had made bigger miracles happen in Storybrooke.

"I'll need the guest list from you by Saturday," her mother said by way of goodbye.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WLG: _As of now, this is the last chapter that I've written for this story (I'm sure you're all_ so _disappointed). It may be possible that if wheel allows it another random scene might pop up from me, but I wouldn't count on it. Mostly I plan to stay behind the scenes and support wheel in her effort to make our dream of a GG au a reality. I cannot say enough good things about what is to come from her for it, so I fully expect you all to stick around for the ride!_**
> 
> **Wheel: This may be WLG's last full chapter (at least for the time being) but she is absolutely the power behind this story. Without her I would be lost and there would be no story to read so, at the end of the day, whoever actually put the words to paper, this entire 'verse is just as much hers as mine.**

"Caffeinate me," Emma said, walking through the swinging door into the kitchen.

Mary Margaret looked up from her pastry dough and nodded toward the industrial-sized coffee machine. "It's fresh."

She somehow managed to bite back the laugh that threatened to escape as she watched Emma gulp down the steaming drink. "Need something stronger?"

Emma shrugged, thinking about the conversation with her mother. "Well, I suppose it's 5 o'clock somewhere."

Before she could reach the liquor cabinet, she found herself being shoved down onto one of the kitchen stools and a fork thrust into her hand. "Try that instead," Mary Margaret commanded. "Pear turnover, new recipe."

Mary Margaret grinned at the moan of pleasure coming from Emma as she took a bite of the pastry. If there was one thing that she knew, it was how to turn otherwise boring ingredients into something truly magical.

"So tell me what happened."

"Can't talk," Emma replied, mouth full of food. "Eating."

"What? Didn't you stop at the Jolly on your way in?"

Emma glared at her friend. "Have we met?"

Mary Margaret laughed and turned back kneading to her dough. "You might as well just tell me what's wrong," she began. "I'm going to find out anyway."

They both knew it was true. Mary Margaret knew nearly everything that there was to know about Emma, and yet was still her closest friend and ally. It still baffled her sometimes that they could be such good friends, work together for upwards of 14 hours every day, and still not kill each other.

"My mother called."

That got Mary Margaret's attention. After knowing each other for 10 years, Mary Margaret was well aware of the often strained relationship between Emma and Regina.

"No wonder you need a drink. So what did the not-so-evil queen do now?"

Emma sighed. "She hijacked Henry's birthday."

Mary Margaret's jaw dropped and Emma told her the story of how their plans would have to change in order to accommodate Regina's.

"Well, it sounds like Henry is in for quite the celebratory birthday weekend!"

Somehow Emma managed to resist rolling her eyes. She should have known that Mary Margaret's ever-present optimism would shine through.

"I mean, it's not that your mother has any right to do it, but honestly? Saturday might be better for our party anyway. We'll have a lot more time to set up!"

"I can't believe you're taking her side!"

"I'm not, I swear! I'm just saying that this is actually going to work out better for us."

This time Emma _did_ roll her eyes, mostly because she knew- but didn't want to admit- that Mary Margaret was right. Things had been like this between them from the start. In the beginning, Emma had been hopeless. Granny had taken pity on her and given her and Henry a home, not to mention a job that would keep them fed. There were two conditions that went along with this arrangement though: that Granny would get to spend time doting on Henry and that Emma at least finish high school.

Enter Mary Margaret: force of nature in a cardigan sweater.

When the two first crossed paths, Emma was a barely-18 year old mother of a newborn who spent her days cleaning guestrooms at the Inn and her evenings at the local learning annex working toward the GED she had promised to Granny, and Mary Margaret was her 23-year-old fresh-faced instructor trying to help people make something better of themselves. It wasn't exactly a match made in classroom heaven.

In fact, while Mary Margaret meant well with her unending optimism and constant speeches about reaching one's "potential," Emma wanted nothing more than to bang her head against the wall, curl up in bed with her son, and sleep for 100 years. Instead, she found herself working harder than she had ever worked in her life, desperate to prove that she could handle the cards that life had dealt her.

For her part, Mary Margaret was also trying to make the most of a difficult situation- between teaching at the local elementary school during the day and at the annex at night she didn't have much time for a personal life. However, this did not stop her from taking an interest in any of her students during her rare, but well deserved, free time.

" _You can skip class all you want, Emma, but just know that I will always find you."_

_Emma blinked her eyes open from her spot on the Enchanted Inn's porch swing where she had accidentally nodded off, suddenly alert and reaching for something next to her. "What?" she asked, setting the object back down._

_Mary Margaret tilted her head to the side, taking in her student's somewhat disheveled appearance. "Are you alright?"_

_Yawning widely, Emma nodded, still refusing to make eye contact. "Sure, just beat."_

" _You missed a test."_

_That got Emma's attention. "Miss Blanchard," she sighed, burying her face in her hands. "That was tonight?"_

" _That was tonight," Mary Margaret confirmed. "Emma, you've never missed class before. Is there something wro-"_

_A sudden screeching sound emitted from the space next to Emma causing her to immediately jump into action while also effectively cutting off Mary Margaret's question. Before the teacher could question her further though, Emma had disappeared around the side of the Inn's main building and into the night. It was then that Mary Margaret's attention was drawn to the item that had been sitting next to her student._

" _Hey, kid," Emma's disembodied voice said through what Mary Margaret now realized was a baby monitor. "Are you okay?" The crying had stopped with her arrival, but resumed at full volume in response to the question._

_Deciding to give her a moment of privacy, Mary Margaret switched the monitor off before making her way around the building in the direction that Emma had gone. It didn't take long before she came across a small building, hardly bigger than a shed, dim light shining through the windows where she could see Emma bouncing a small baby in her arms as though trying to soothe it._

_She knocked lightly on the open door to announce her presence. "Who's this?"_

_Emma froze in response, a mix of pain, horror, and yet also defiance clear in her eyes. "Henry," she whispered._

" _Well, hello, Henry," Mary Margaret smiled, stepping closer to Emma and the still screaming infant. "Is that why you missed class? You were babysitting?"_

" _No."_

" _But then why-" she stopped herself, dawning realization plain on her face as she really took in her surroundings: the unmade bed half-covered in laundry, the plain wooden crib with a small mobile hanging above it, the mismatched changing table and dresser both against the opposite wall. "_ Your _son was sick."_

" _Henry's not sick," Emma said, sounding defensive. "He's just colicky. He'll be better soon."_

_With that pronouncement, Emma swept out of the small home and back toward the main building. "Are you coming?" she asked over her shoulder._

_Mary Margaret hurried her steps to catch up. "Where are we going?"_

" _To the kitchen. Henry's got a special formula he can take when he gets like this, and I'm hungry."_

_A few minutes later, Emma made her way into the inn's dining room where she had left Mary Margaret and Henry, the latter now much calmer and happily taking his bottle from his new friend. She shook her head slightly in disbelief as she set two mugs down on the table. "He usually takes a bit longer to settle down. You really must have a gift…"_

_Mary Margaret looked up from the baby and smiled. "He's a sweetheart." Careful not to jostle Henry, she leaned forward and took a sip from the mug. "What is that?"_

" _Hot cocoa?"_

" _No, I know that," she said. "Is that cinnamon?"_

" _Oh, yeah," Emma confirmed. "Sorry, it's a habit. If you don't like it, I can-"_

" _No, it's really good. How did I not think of this before," she mused, mostly to herself. "Now let's talk about how to make up that exam you missed."_

From that night on, Mary Margaret came to the inn to work with Emma- and spend time with Henry- two or three times a week. At first Emma found this to be awkward, she didn't want Mary Margaret going out of her way for her (nor did she want her pity), but eventually she came to realize that the teacher was just as lonely as she was.

In the beginning, Mary Margaret would stop by with cookies or other treats- "I found this new recipe online and just had to try it, but it's too much for only me!"- eventually leading to regular dinners, usually just the two of them and Henry, although sometimes they were joined by Granny and/or her rebellious granddaughter, Ruby.

And then one evening everything changed. Emma hadn't expected Mary Margaret to come for dinner- now that she had a newly minted GED in hand, surely their relationship had run its course. She should have known better though, for sure enough, Mary Margaret had come over for their regular Tuesday night dinner, but upon entering the inn it quickly became apparent that something was wrong. Emma wasn't there to greet her at the front desk, which was odd given that she had heard Granny promoted her to honor her new degree.

Making her way through the dining room full of obviously hungry guests, Mary Margaret entered the kitchen and blinked at the sight before her. For there Emma was, standing in front of the stove- complete with several smoking pots and pans- while precariously holding a knife in one hand and trying to chop an onion that kept rolling away from her. Granny was sick, and Emma was obviously useless in the kitchen, so it took less than a second for Mary Margaret to tie an apron around her waist, throw a dish towel over her shoulder- could she be any more cliche?- and start barking orders, taking command of the kitchen.

And so a friendship was born. It took some convincing on both parts, but in the end, their hard work and cajoling were all well worth it. Emma worked every day with Granny to learn the books and the business while Mary Margaret threw everything she had into cooking, even going back to school to hone her craft and become a professional chef. The two of them made quite the team.

"Besides, you know that Mayor Spencer was worried that the party would impact Friday's rush hour," Mary Margaret said, taking the now-empty plate from Emma's unresisting hand.

Emma blinked, lost in her thoughts, until Mary Margaret's words sank in. "Since when does Storybrooke even _have_ a rush hour?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I'm told that the fandom is currently deaded because of some footage and the fact that OUAT comes back this Sunday. Who knew couch-kissing, cockblocking airships, and the return of a show could kill as many fangirls as Spanish Flu.**
> 
> **Personally, I'm not going to get to watch the show until Monday and WLG is annoyed that I can't freak out over it with her in real time. My lack of cable access puts a great deal of strain on our relationship. She won't let me go an extra day either, I apparently am required to watch it before the presidential debate on Monday. (Yeah, Wheel is _that_ kind of nerd.)**
> 
> **Anyway, in spite of a lack of couch make-outs and dirigibles, I do hope you enjoy this installment of Flowers, in which we learn a bit about our heroes' backgrounds.**
> 
> **As of Wednesday (Tuesday?) this story and the next are completely written, so hopefully there won't be any breaks in publishing (unless my real life decides to become inconvenient at some point).**
> 
> **Happy Fanfiction Friday all, and if I don't talk to any of you before, happy Onceday!**

Emma sighed and poked at the onion rings on her plate with her fork.

Henry and Grace had come bouncing into the Inn after school, bubbling over with excitement for Regina's Harry Potter party. Emma's mother had called Henry's cell phone the moment school had let out and explained her plans. Henry had, of course, been thrilled.

Emma stabbed moodily at her plate again. She knew Regina had done it to be sure Emma didn't influence Henry to her way of thinking and it annoyed her, both for having been so easily read by her mother and doubly so because, after speaking with Mary Margaret, David, Ruby, and Granny, all of whom had agreed that Saturday would be a better day for the town party anyway, she'd decided not to try to push Henry into objecting.

"Something wrong with my cooking tonight, Swan?"

Emma looked up to find Killian standing over her table, glaring at her scarcely-touched dinner. Henry had long-since finished and rushed out of the diner to the antique shop across the square to find Grace and continue their plans for their Gryffindor House costumes.

"Guess I'm just not very hungry," she said with a shrug and a half-smile.

"Emma Swan, not hungry for food better-suited to her ten-year-old's palate? Will wonders never cease?" Killian snarked.

Emma opened her mouth to object when her phone buzzed beside her plate. When she glanced at the read-out and saw her mother's information, she stabbed the button to receive the call (after her dressing-down that morning, she couldn't afford to give Regina more ammo).

"Oi!" Killian objected as she lifted the phone to her ear. He gestured wildly at the sign over his counter. "No mobile phones!"

Emma waved the objection away. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, and she knew he wouldn't kick her out for all his threats.

"I think your message must have been cut off."

"Hello to you too, Mother. What message?"

"The one with the guest list. It cut off after only four names, could you re-send the rest?"

Emma did a quick count on her fingers to be sure. "Unless you're planning on sending an invitation to Henry and have lost our address, there should only be four people. Grace Madigan, you've met her, Nick and Ava Zimmer, and Violet Pendragon."

"That can't be his entire class. I told you to send me the whole list!"

"You can't invite his entire class, Mom. I'm borrowing a van-" Mary Margaret's, to be exact "-to get these five over already. I'd have to hire a school bus to get the whole class there."

"Their parents can bring them!"

Emma sighed. Sometimes Regina lived on a different planet than the rest of them. "It's an hour out to you, no one is going to drive their kid that far for a birthday party."

"Henry deserves to have his entire class at his party!"

"And he will, at the one in town."

"I thought that one had to be cancelled because it was on the same night?"

Emma was loath to give Regina this much, but there wasn't much way around it without outright lying. "We moved the town party to Saturday."

"Well I'm glad you saw reason finally."

Emma rolled her eyes, though she had a feeling that her Mother would know even from two towns over.

"You know, you're welcome to bring someone to the party as well if you like. Perhaps someone you're seeing?" Regina was fishing for information, but Emma wasn't about to give anything more away this evening.

As though on cue, Killian insinuated himself into Emma's personal space again, taking away her uneaten dinner, and glaring at her while mouthing "lose the phone."

"No, Mother. I'm not seeing anyone." What she _was_ seeing was Killian's ass in his slightly-too-tight jeans, and she couldn't help but admire the view. He might be a friend and nothing more, but she wasn't blind.

"I see. Well I was thinking of inviting-"

"Whoever you invite will be fine, I'm sure," Emma interrupted, not wanting to hear about any potential dates her mother might think she could select. "I've got to go, Henry will need to start his homework soon. Bye!" She hung up before her mother could get in another word.

Emma leaned forward and dropped her head onto the cleared table in front of her with a low _thunk_.

She might have fallen asleep there, wallowing in parental angst, save for the sound of ceramic hitting the wood of the table above her head. She turned so that she could peek through the curtain of blonde hair over her face to find one of the diner's plain white coffee mugs sitting in front of her, and the owner of the place sitting across from her, sipping from his own mug as he watched her.

"Coffee?" Emma asked. Killian _must_ be feeling sorry for her to give her unsolicited coffee this late in the day.

He just smiled, which made him look about ten years younger- more like the man that Emma had met so briefly.

_She'd emptied her bank account and bought the first car she'd been able to afford from a classified for cash- a Volkswagen Beetle in sunshine yellow that was practically as old as her mother. She'd had no thought to dependability or longevity, her only thought had been to_ run _. Run from Neal's disregard. Run from Regina's disappointment. Run from her own heartbreak. More than anything else though, she wanted to run from the little blue plus sign on that damned pregnancy test._

_She hadn't gotten fully an hour from her mother's front door, however when, within sight of a big stone sign that said "Welcome to Storybrooke" a wolf had run across the road, making her swerve to avoid hitting it, running the car off the road and into a ditch._

_The wolf had vanished by the time she had climbed out of the car to assess the damage, only to be followed by an old woman with a crossbow following the same path as the wild animal. Emma wondered if the accident had knocked her silly. Perhaps she was comatose and the name of the town had inspired fairy tale fantasies._

_That had been Granny Lucas and she had, in her inimitable way, assessed the situation and begun a solution before anyone else would even have been able to shake away the surprise._

_She had led Emma back to the Inn, which was scarcely 100 yards away in a large clearing in the woods, had loaded Emma into her pickup truck, and had driven her to town. She'd settled Emma in at the diner, called at the time Hidden Jewel, and gone off to "have a word" with Michael, the mechanic._

_The man behind the counter at the diner had had blue eyes and a pleasantly handsome face and had asked in a British accent what he could get for her. With his curly hair and his gentle smile and that accent, he'd reminded her forcefully of Mr. Bingley from Regina's favorite adaptation of Pride and Prejudice._

_Emma had nearly asked for coffee, but some niggling memory of maybe having read somewhere at some time that coffee was bad for pregnant women made her hesitate._

" _Hot chocolate, please?"_

_If he thought it a childish choice, he made no indication. "With whipped cream?"_

_Emma had nodded and, blushing, had asked him to sprinkle cinnamon on top as well, which he had done, setting the confection before her with a grin and a wink._

_Enter, in that moment, a younger, leaner, darker version of the kind-faced Mr. Bingley Emma had been speaking to. No Mr. Darcy he, however. For all his romantic good-looks, the sparkle in his sea-blue eyes was far too sinful for the chastity of Jane Austen._

" _Killian, just in time. I need to go into the back, so could I beg you to man the counter and entertain the lovely Miss…" He had trailed off, looking over at Emma with a raised eyebrow._

" _Emma," she said, wondering why he would care. "Emma Swan."_

" _The lovely Miss Swan."_

_Mr. Bingley had vanished into the back and Killian had leaned against the counter, a flirtatious grin on his soft mouth._

" _I don't think I've seen you on any of my previous visits to the lovely hamlet of Storybrooke, which is a pity as you seem to have already charmed the great Liam Jones." He'd waved a hand that wore several silver rings at the door through which the older version had vanished. "My brother is not easily charmed, so you must be something special, Swan."_

" _I'm just… passing through."_

_His smile had ratcheted up then from flirtatious to downright predatory. "Well I'm just passing through as well, you know. On summer break from Boston University. Perhaps we could pass some time together?"_

_Emma's walls had gone up immediately. She was too raw from Neal, and too aware of the secret that only one other person in the world knew, and that one person had run from with nary a backward glance._

_Something must have changed in her face, because Killian backed off his flirting immediately._

" _Hey, lass, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I wasn't trying to imply… I'm sorry."_

_Emma felt cold and numb and like if she didn't run she would fly into a million pieces._

" _I have to go," she muttered, reaching into her purse to find something to pay for the chocolate with. "I just have…"_

_A large, warm hand had laid itself on her arm. "The drink is on me, darling."_

_She looked up and now, rather than lascivious, his eyes were concerned._

" _Don't call me darling." She didn't think she could stand it._

" _Emma then. The drink is on me. If you need to run, you can run, but you needn't run from me. I promise, I'll let you be."_

" _How did you know-"_

_He'd smiled. A different one from before, this one friendly and charming without expectation. "You're a bit of an open book, lass." He'd removed his hand from her arm then, and she'd nearly shivered at the chill of its loss. "I'll be over there-" he pointed to the other end of the counter "-if you want to talk. Or if you don't."_

_He had been, though she hadn't. Granny had arrived shortly thereafter with Michael and they had left in his tow truck to pull Emma's Bug out of the ditch._

_Killian had returned to school by the time Emma next made it into town and she'd never seen him again. Some time later, rumours flew that he had dropped out of school and was traveling the country with a woman, though Emma had given them little thought. She'd been trying to raise an infant and make ends meet housekeeping at the Inn and living in one of the outbuildings._

_He'd returned five years later, different. He was more sober and more closed-off and the name Milah had been tattooed on the inside of his left forearm, bisected by an ugly scar that he never talked about._

_A year after Killian's return, Liam had died of a cancer no one in town had known about. Four years on, and the cheeky, saucy, open young man that Emma had met in her lowest moment was visible only in occasional flashes._

Emma pushed herself up to a proper sitting position, and the smell of the drink Killian had brought her drifted over. It wasn't coffee. It was hot chocolate with whipped cream, cinnamon, and-

"Rum?" Emma asked taking another deep breath. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "You haven't got a license to sell alcohol here."

"I'm not selling it. There's no law says I can't mix a drink for a friend and give it to them free of charge in my own place of business."

Emma wasn't entirely sure that was true, but decided not to quibble. Mary Margaret had been unwilling to give her alcohol first thing in the morning, but if Killian was offering, she wasn't going to object. Her day had definitely earned it.

"So what has the Evil Queen done this time, eh?"

With the soothing powers of chocolate, rum, and Killian's company, Emma was finally able to relax enough to talk about it.

"She shanghaied Henry's birthday party. She wants to throw him a Harry Potter themed party-"

"That's actually a really good idea."

"I know. Wish I'd thought of it. Anyway, she's insisting it has to be _on_ his birthday, which means moving our party."

Killian gave her one of those searching looks over the top of his mug which she noticed for the first time had a teabag trailing out over the rim.

"You could just let your mum throw the party, you know. Henry'll have a grand time and it'd be easier and less expensive for you. Why don't you do that?"

Emma glanced up at him. She knew what he was asking. She didn't celebrate her own birthday, so he knew it wasn't simply love of a party that had her going all-out every year for Henry's. He wasn't trying to convince her not to do it, just wondering why she did.

She sighed. If she could be honest with no one else in the world, she could be honest with Killian.

"In almost thirty years, I haven't done a single thing that I thought I could be proud of. I barely scraped a G.E.D., never went to college, have never had a successful romantic relationship, and can't cook a vegetable with a gun to my head. But the day I had Henry and kept him? That was the first time I'd ever done something right, and it was the most important thing I've ever done. I'm never going to write a book or make a movie or anything. Henry is my…" she trailed off, her forehead creasing. "What's the word? The great work of your life?"

A large hand that was still as warm as the first time it had ever touched her, though no longer bedecked with rings on each finger, covered hers. "Magnum opus?"

Emma looked up and smiled at Killian. "Yes. Henry's birthday is the most important day of the year because it celebrates that."

Killian wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed gently, his thumb rubbing across her knuckles for a long moment.

"Which is why I insist that you wear a costume like everyone else!"

Killian groaned and sat back in his chair, letting go of her hand and running it through his hair instead.

"You've been waiting all night to pull that out, haven't you? Soften me up so you can bring that attack?"

Emma grinned, the tension of the moment broken, but not the intimacy.

"Come on, Jones, just pick your favorite fairy tale character. Surely you've read a fairy tale at some point."

He glared. "I may have skimmed over one once in my long life. I _don't_ wear costumes."

"I _don't_ care. It's Henry's birthday and you're going to wear a damned costume if I have to strip you down and force you into it."

"What does it matter? No one's going to believe I'm bloody Prince Charming."

"Of course they won't. David's doing Prince Charming, you'll have to be someone else."

Killian frowned slightly. "Which Prince Charming? Snow White or Cinderella?"

"I think Snow White, but I'm not sure. Why?" She grinned at him. "Do you want the other?"

"God no."

"No," she mused, leaning forward on her elbow to look at him, "no one would mistake you for being charming, that's true. Maybe a villain then? Jafar? Dr. Facilier?"

"Who?"

"Frog Princess. You should watch that one, you'd probably like it. No!" She cried, snapping her fingers. "I've got it! Captain Hook!"

"Waxed moustaches and perms, Swan? I'm wounded." He covered his heart with his left hand and Emma caught a glimpse of the scar running up the inside of his arm and twisting the last two fingers of his hand into a hook shape. Perhaps Captain Hook had been a bit too on the nose, but he seemed not to notice.

"Captain Jack Sparrow, then?" she suggested. "Also a Disney character."

"And here was me thinking all you women wanted a prince to come in on his white horse and defeat the dragon and carry you off as his princess. You seem to have a fondness for men with too much eye makeup and dubious morals."

"Speaking of which, Han Solo is a Disney property these days as well, though he doesn't wear quite as much guyliner."

Killian just rolled his eyes.

"The thing about Princes is that they end up with Princesses, and that's not me."

Killian raised a brow. "No? Never wanted to be Belle or Snow White?"

Emma shook her head. "Never believed I could. Girls like me don't become princesses."

"What do girls like you become, then?"

"Orphan girls who find home in a place they never expect?" Emma's eyes went to the front window where she could see Henry crossing the square back to them. It was time for them to get home and for her to check his homework and send him to bed. The town looked like magic in the waning light, the fairy lights strung through the trees flickered on giving it a fantasy aspect.

"I'm more like one of the Lost Boys," she said, draining her cup and setting it down as she pushed herself to her feet. "Thanks for the drink, Jones. I look forward to seeing your getup."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Submitted for your approval:**
> 
>  
> 
> **A chapter about love, friendship, family, and murder most foul!***

Emma looked herself over in the mirror going over the checklist.

High tops painted in pink and red tartan. Black tights. Knee-length black skirt. White button-up. Black sweater-vest. Blue-and-black scarf. Robe lined in blue that had been a high school graduation gown she'd found at the thrift store and spent the past few weeks fixing up.

Emma picked up the pair of her old glasses that she had painted up in glitter and sequins and slid them over her eyes as her phone gave its ping to indicate a text message.

She did one more spin in front of the mirror, decided she didn't look too much like a fetish cosplayer, picked up her wand (a plastic thing from the discount store) and her phone and left her room.

Henry was finishing his own costume when she went to his door. Gryffindor robe and scarf and round plastic glasses, these without the lenses.

He turned and grinned to see her. "Perfect Luna, Mom."

"Thanks, Harry, you look pretty sharp yourself. Come here and we'll get a scar on you."

They retreated to her room where she dug a bottle of liquid eyeliner out of a drawer.

"Come here Kid, and hold still."

"Your phone is blinking, you've got a text," Henry said, even as he tried to be still.

"Uh-huh. I'll deal with it in a sec," Emma said, carefully drawing a lightning bolt on Henry's forehead.

"That tickles."

"Don't care, if you move now you'll mess it up. Don't glare at me, you'll pucker your forehead."

Emma moved to put the eyeliner away and picked up her phone.

_Swan, come to the Jolly before you go to your mum's place tonight. -Jones_

"What is it?" Henry asked, seeing her frown.

"A weird joke," Emma said, choosing a number from her book and putting the phone to her ear.

"Jolly Roger, this is Jones speaking," came the voice from the other end of the line.

"Oh thank god you're alive! Here was me thinking I was about to wander into some kind of Reservoir Dogs-style hostage situation."

"Swan? What the hell are you on about?"

"Some maniac is sending texts from your phone! I'm actually kind of surprised they talked that 2006 flip-phone into sending a text at all, but stranger things have happened. I mean they did all sorts of crazy stuff on X-Files after all."

" _I_ sent you that text you daft woman."

"In which case I lied. Stranger things have not happened, even on X-Files. When did you join the 21st century with its cellular message-by-text technology?"

"Are you done?"

"Oh probably not. Are you a time-traveling version of yourself from the distant future that is only _now_ starting to use text?"

Emma touched the mark she'd drawn on Henry's head and, finding it dry, waved him out of her room. He left, shaking his head and laughing.

"You know, if you'd come into the diner this morning, I wouldn't have had to text you, I could have given this to Henry then."

"It's his birthday, I made him cake for breakfast."

"First of all, you're a terrible mother. Second, _you_ made a cake? You're sure Mary Margaret didn't make it?"

Emma was wounded. "First of all, no, I'm not. Second, yeah, _I_ made a cake. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"I suppose it came out of a box?"

"And what if it did? Henry is eleven years old, as long as there is enough frosting on it, he can't tell the difference between a box cake and haute cuisine."

"If you'd asked, I'd have made him a cake. You know that."

"You know, Jones," Emma said, just about sick of this from him, "I managed to be a mother to Henry- plan his birthday parties, wrap his Christmas presents, and yeah, even make his birthday cakes- for a lot of years before you decided to come rolling back into town. I had a lot of help along the way but at the end of the day, _I_ was Henry's mom I did a _damned_ good job. I'll thank you to remember that."

"Emma, I-"

"I've got to go. It's Henry's birthday and I have a whole mess of shit to do." With that jab, Emma shut off her phone.

Emma gave herself a last look in the mirror, annoyed to find that her mouth was tugging down at the corners as it did when she was particularly unhappy. Why Killian's constant ribbing about her failures as a parent had so badly gotten to her tonight, she couldn't quite say, but she'd had absolutely no patience for it.

She practiced a quick, dreamy smile in Luna's signature style, and hoped that she would be able to fake it for the rest of the night. She didn't have a lot of choice, as the doorbell chose that moment to ring.

From the top of the stairs she could hear the chorus of young voices filling the entryway of her house, shrieking and yelling as they complimented each other's costumes. Emma knew they had all been working on them for a month since news of Henry's Harry Potter-themed second (first) birthday had gotten around.

Emma descended the stairs and waded through the kids to get out to the porch where the parents were waiting.

"You and Henry look great!" Michael Zimmer said, patting Emma on the shoulder.

"Thanks Mike, so do the kids."

Ada was wearing Slytherin green and Nick was in Ravenclaw blue like Emma. Henry and Grace were both in Gryffindor scarlet and Violet was in Hufflepuff yellow.

Emma had observed, with great amusement, Henry and Grace finding out that Violet didn't know her Hogwarts house and browbeating her into joining Pottermore. Gwen, relatively new to the Harry Potter phenom, had called Emma in a controlled panic.

"What do I do? I've never made a costume before, not like this!"

Emma had introduced the older woman to the joys of the St. Vincent de Paul thrift store in town.

"You just buy a piece that's close to what you want, and you fiddle around with it until it's right," Emma had explained holding up an old graduation gown. "Granny taught me to sew when I was 17 and couldn't afford baby clothes for Henry. Poor kid wore what amounted to nightgowns made out of the Inn's old bedsheets for the entire first year of his life."

Gwen had looked surprised about that and Emma had suddenly realized that Gwen and Arthur, on the periphery of Storybrooke and largely on the outside of the worst of the town gossip, might actually not be aware of her sordid tale. She did not ask, however, and Emma did not volunteer further information about Henry's early years.

Emma turned to Gwen standing on her porch and grinned. "Violet looks great. I love the yellow trim on that vest we found."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "She ended up taking it to the Home Ec teacher at the school- apparently I'm a menace with a needle. I'd have asked you, but I knew you had your costume and Henry's and the one for tomorrow's party too and figured you were probably booked."

"Mary Margaret is making our costumes for tomorrow. She's being very secretive about them- won't show them to me. Makes me suspect that I'll be wearing a frilly pink princess gown," Emma said, wrinkling her nose.

Gwen laughed. "I'm sure you'll be lovely in it regardless. Violet got lucky on that count- Arthur's mother sent her a ball gown a year back because… apparently she thinks balls happen in rural Maine?" Gwen shrugged. "She's German and has more money than sense."

"I suppose I should be grateful that Henry's grandmother has both, though I think we'd get along a lot better if she were in Germany."

Jefferson rolled his eyes, he'd heard these complaints before. "You're going to be okay on your own with the kids tonight?" he asked, looking slightly worried. "They won't be too much for you? I can go if you like. Dig out my old top hat and go as a wizard trying to dress as a muggle?"

"I'll be fine, Jeff. I'll only have all the kids to myself in the car on the way there and back, once we get to the party, my mom, her PA, and her guests will all be able to keep an eye in."

"If you're sure," he said, glancing at his daughter who was bent double, giggling about something Henry had just said.

"Of course I'm sure, and we'd best be off or we'll be late, and Regina won't be pleased. I'll have the kids back home by midnight, or let you know if something goes wrong. All of the kids have their own phones?" All three parents nodded. "Great. All right you hooligans, all aboard the Hogwarts Express!"

There was a quick round of "good byes" and "be goods" as the kids and parents took their leave of one-another, and within a few minutes, with only a small scuffle, the kids situated themselves in Mary Margaret's minivan, Henry, Grace, and Violet crammed into the back, and Nick and Ava in the bucket seats in front of them. Emma turned on the music to slightly drown out the over-loud babble of conversation, and took off.

She had sworn to herself that she had no interest in finding out what Killian had wanted when he'd called, but her hands seemed to have other ideas as she found herself steering through town and stopping outside of the diner whose windows were still glowing, in spite of it being closing time.

"Hey, Kid," she called over the clamour in the back.

"Awww, mom!" Henry whined. "Can't you go without coffee just this once?"

"We're not here for me, you ungrateful spawn. Killian has something he wants to give you, and asked us to come by tonight."

"Yeah?" Henry asked, instantly abandoning his whine in favor of childish enthusiasm tinged with a tiny amount of greed.

"Yeah, run in there and get it. Don't take too long though or the Wicked Witch will turn us all into toads."

"Mooooom," Henry sighed, even as he extricated himself from the backseat. "Grandma isn't a wicked witch. She's the evil queen, remember?"

Emma laughed. "How could I forget? Seriously though, be quick."

Henry was already out of the van and didn't acknowledge her as he ran up to the front of the Jolly. The kids behind Emma resumed their conversation, but she watched her son.

Killian had come out from the kitchen when she'd pulled up, and had been watching her out the plate glass window as she'd carefully ignored him. He finally looked away when Henry barged into the diner.

With those intense blue eyes off of her, Emma could look at him again as he talked to Henry. She could appreciate, for a moment, the shape of his jaw as it moved and the surprising, deep dimple that appeared in the dark stubble on his cheek as he smiled at her son.

She really hated being angry at him. The two dark heads now bent toward one another represented the most important men in her life (though she'd allow herself to be run through with a sword before she told David or Jeff any such thing). She wasn't ready to forgive him yet, but she thought perhaps tomorrow, as they were setting up the party, she might find it in herself to smile at him again.

Henry shot out the door of the diner and toward the car, several long, narrow things clutched in his hands.

"Killian made wands!" he shouted as he threw open the door.

The other kids immediately threw up a clamour as Henry started passing them out, talking a mile-a-minute about each one.

"And there's one for you, Mom," Henry said, shoving one of the pieces of wood toward her.

Emma took it by reflex, surprised. It was long and white and not-quite straight, with diamond-shaped imperfections in the wood. It was as smooth as silk under her hand, and she could imagine Killian with fine-grained sandpaper in one hand, brushing those calloused fingertips over it for any rough patches.

The image made her shiver slightly.

"He made these?" she asked. "For everyone?"

"He said you'd say that," Henry answered, smugly. "He told me to tell you not to be so surprised by his skills. But then he told me to tell you that he's sorry. And that I should remember I've got the best mum in the world. Are you two fighting again?"

Emma laughed. "Just a little bit, Kid. Nothing for you to worry about. Now sit down and get your seatbelt on or we'll be even more late and your grandmother will never let me hear the end of it."

"A wizard is never late," Nick quoted as Henry complied. "Nor is he early. He always arrives precisely when he means to."

"I think you're mixing your fantasy there, Sport," Emma said as she navigated the big vehicle out of the parking space.

While the kids turned to an argument of Lord of the Rings versus Harry Potter, Emma looked one last time at the glowing windows of the Jolly to find Killian there again, watching her.

She raised a hand in silent farewell. More than a smile tomorrow, she decided. He'd earned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***This list should not be considered either comprehensive or even correct.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I was told, when I asked around, that I might have been allowed to tell you, my lovely readers, in the last chapter that I, your humble author, am actually a seamstress and the maker of thrift-store costumes, much like Emma in this 'verse of mine, which is why there was a long bit in the last chapter about thrifting and sewing.**
> 
>  
> 
> **I am also a fan of theme parties, which is why Emma is as well. She gets some of my hobbies 'cause it's fun to have an excuse to talk about them, and she also has a few of my neuroses (which will come up later, promise).**
> 
>  
> 
> **In this chapter, we meet some people that have, up until now, been absent from this story. Some of the characters and the relationships are slightly controversial in the Captain Swan ship-verse. I will warn you now- Neal appears (and as the Chris character from Gilmore Girls, he'll be around quite a bit) as do Rumple and Belle, and yes, this 'verse is Rumbelle compliant, though those two will never be the centre of a story. If that's a problem for you, I think you deserve to know now before you devote any further time to this dreadful story.**
> 
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> 
> **For any of you who have decided to remain, I do hope you enjoy this week's chapter!**

"Woah!"

Emma smiled slightly at the kids who were looking up at her mother's huge house in absolute amazement. She knew how they felt: she'd known the place for 13 years and still thought it was too big and grand to be real.

Storybrooke tended more toward cute cottages and ramshackle, 100-year-old charmers. The town had nothing like Regina's three-story, scrupulously perfect, modern replica of a Victorian mansion. Emma hated the place but, in the dark and with the windows glowing gold, it did have a slightly Hogwarts-y feel, and the kids were already excited.

She shepherded them up the front steps and knocked on the door as Henry told them about the house's five bedrooms, formal dining room, and formal parlour, as well as its more modern accoutrement of a games room with everything from an XBox to a foosball table.

When the door opened, the kids scrambled inside immediately, all ready to explore and party, and seemed not to notice who had actually allowed them inside. Emma, on the other hand, did.

"Sidney?" she asked in shock and horror.

Regina's long-time personal assistant usually wore an exceedingly boring suit-and-tie. Emma had told Regina that the world had moved past that type of formality, and she should probably let the poor man wear slacks and polos, but her mother had insisted that a suit was absolutely necessary for Sidney's line of work.

(To Emma's eyes, Sidney's "line of work" was mostly fetching Regina's coffee and dry cleaning, and looking up dirt on any of her acquaintances who annoyed her.)

He wasn't wearing a suit tonight, however. Instead he was wearing what appeared to be a bedsheet that had been sewn up the sides with arm-and-head holes cut out and allowed to fray.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Emma asked, lowering her voice to a whisper from the shriek she wanted to let out.

"Your mother said I was dressed as an Elf. She said it was appropriate to the theme."

He looked unperturbed by this fact, so Emma hazarded a guess. "You haven't read the Harry Potter books, have you?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "I have better things to do with my time than read children's books, Emma."

"Okay… cool. You keep doing what you're doing then. Is Regina around?"

Sidney gestured over his shoulder to the entrance to the large formal dining room, through which Emma could see tables of food and people milling around.

"Thanks," she said and crossed the entry to the room.

Violet stood just inside the door and grabbed her sleeve to halt her.

"Is that guy really dressed as a House Elf?" she asked, looking pained.

"Apparently," Emma said softly.

"Does he know House Elves are slaves? Doesn't that bother him?"

"He hasn't read the books, I asked. Might be best not to let him know, but I'm going to have a word with Henry's grandmother about her idea of an appropriate getup for a party though, never you fear."

Violet gave an uncomfortable smile, and Emma's heart went out to her.

"Hey," she said, touching the girl's shoulder and making sure she was meeting her eyes, "I'll handle it, I promise. Don't worry about it and try to have a good time anyway, okay? Henry's really glad you were able to come."

That made the girl smile. "I'm really glad he invited me. Thanks Ms. Swan."

Emma laughed. "Just call me Emma, okay?"

Violet nodded and ran off to join the gaggle of kids at one of the food tables.

The crowd in the room seemed to ripple and Emma turned, unsurprised to see her mother had made her usual dramatic entrance.

In ordinary life, Regina was a connoisseur of a practical and attractive pantsuit, but in moments like this, when she had a roomful of heads to turn, the woman was a queen.

She wore a stark black, form-fitting gown that just barely flared over her knees to allow her to walk. It had an appropriately "witchy" vibe, though Emma would have thought it better suited to an Addams Family party than Harry Potter. She accessorized it with a tiny witch's hat that she wore jauntily as a fascinator in her soft, dark hair. The hat had a Hogwarts crest on the front which, aside from her red lipstick, was her only concession to colour.

No one looking at Regina would have guessed that she had a nearly-30-year-old daughter, and an 11-year-old grandson. If she had lines on her face, they were carefully covered with an expert sheen of makeup. If any part of her curvy body was, perhaps, curvier than she liked, she'd carefully tightened it up with time at the gym or Spanx.

In all honesty, Regina wasn't even 50. She'd adopted Emma when she was 30 and Emma was 16, both of them thinking that this was their fresh start.

It might have been, too, if not for-

"Hey Ems."

Emma closed her eyes, adding this to the list of things to berate her mother with as soon as she got a moment alone with the Evil Queen.

She took a deep, calming breath and, plastering a fake smile on, turned to face Henry's dad.

"Hi Neal. Didn't expect to see you here."

He looked her over from head-to-toe, then grinned at her- that old, charming, slightly-crooked smile she'd loved as a teenager.

"Great costume, Em. Luna Lovegood, right?"

"Uh… yeah. I hadn't realized you'd read them."

He shrugged. "Henry's always talking about them, thought I'd give them a try. They're pretty good. I didn't realize you had though."

Emma pressed her lips together in slight annoyance. "Yeah. First time Henry heard them, I was reading them to him."

Neal nodded. "Of course, should have thought of that. Supermom, and all that."

Emma was slightly taken by surprise at this easy compliment, and found that it pleased her more than she expected.

"I… uh… didn't realize you were in town," she said, awkwardly, feeling that she ought really to try to be civil. "I thought you were in New York these days."

"Yeah. I was on my way out here anyway when I got Regina's invitation. Thought it'd be good to catch up with you two again, especially for his birthday. Don't turn eleven every day, right?"

Emma didn't say anything, but she had an odd suspicion that, without Regina's invite, he would have forgotten Henry's birthday entirely.

Again.

She was floundering for something else polite to say when yet another voice she had honestly hoped not to hear made itself known behind her left shoulder.

"Neal."

The name was spoken in a low, slightly-hoarse Scottish accent, just on the safe edge of pleading.

Neal narrowed his eyes at the figure over her shoulder and, without further acknowledgment, brought his eyes back to Emma's.

"I'm gonna go say hi to Henry. It was good to see you again, Em." He gave her a smile and patted her arm as he moved away from her.

The man who had called his name tried to grab his arm as he walked by, but Neal shook him off without giving him a second glance.

Emma turned to watch him go, which put her face-to-face with Neal's father.

"Ms. Swan," he said, acknowledging her for the first time.

In contrast to the way he said his son's name, Emma's was bitten off with an insolent, near-sarcastic edge. He had never called her by her first name, even when she and Neal had been dating. He only referred to her by her surname. She knew it was a British thing, since Killian did the same, but when Killian called her 'Swan,' it always felt friendly. When Neal's father did it, it felt more like he was trying to put her in her place, and that place was several rungs below him.

"Gold," she replied, refusing to offer him the dignity of an honorific.

He opened his mouth, probably to say something disparaging, but for the third time that night, Emma was approached by a familiar voice, this one much more welcome than the others.

"Emma? Is that you?"

Emma turned to find Belle French, de-facto librarian at the Storybrooke library, dressed in a Gryffindor uniform and grinning, then pulling her into a quick hug.

"Belle! What on earth are you doing here?" Emma said, leaning out of the hug, surprised and not at all displeased to see her.

She shrugged. "I'm the party planner."

Emma's eyebrows raised in shock. "I didn't know you did parties, when did this start?"

"I decided to go back to school- get my master's degree and become a real librarian to keep them from bringing one in to take my job. The kids' parties help pay for the classes. I specialize in literary themes, naturally."

Emma frowned. "Surely they wouldn't bring someone else in. You might not have the degree yet, but everyone knows you're a fantastic librarian."

"Mayor Spencer made some comment a few months back about needing to get someone qualified."

Emma huffed out a frustrated breath. "George needs to get his nose out of everyone's business. Want me to put the fear of God in him?"

Belle laughed. "No, that's all right. I should have been working on this for a long time, and I'm actually loving the classes. I can't believe I didn't put together that this was your Henry's party though. You and your mom have different last names?"

Emma smiled. "Yeah, it's all kind of a confusing mess of last names in our family. It's easy to get it mixed up."

"Your manners are quite deplorable," Mr. Gold said, insinuating himself into the circle of Emma and Belle's conversation. "Were you planning on introducing me to your friend?"

Emma blinked in surprise. She had thought Gold had left- gods knew he didn't seek out her company, in general.

"Oh, um… this is Belle French. She's the librarian in Storybrooke and, as you heard, she planned this party. Belle, this is Mr. Gold. He's Henry's grandfather."

Belle did a quick glance between the two of them. "Neal's father?" she guessed. "I met Neal earlier. He's charming."

"Yes," Gold said shortly. "Neal is my boy."

Belle nodded and offered a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gold."

"Richard," he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips for an old-fashioned kiss. "And the pleasure is all mine."

Emma could feel her mouth hanging open in shock. Nearly twelve years she'd known Gold, and never once had she heard anyone refer to him by his first name. If pressed, she couldn't have said for sure that he _had_ a first name. Just "mister."

"Oh!" Belle said, and Emma was even more shocked to see her blush faintly pink.

Emma needed to get as far from this surreal scene as possible.

"I should go… talk to Regina," she said, coming up with an excuse on the fly. "Glad you two have met. Oh, Belle," she added, having almost forgotten, "the decorations are amazing, absolutely perfect. But I did have one question."

"Yeah?" Belle said, finally tearing her eyes from Gold's face.

"Sidney's getup… that wasn't your idea, was it?"

Belle gave a slight shudder. "Gods no. What a terrible idea that was!"

"Oh good. Alright, you two have a good night, okay?" Emma gave the pair a wave over her shoulder even as she sped off.

Free of social obligation for a moment, Emma took her first opportunity to look around at the party. She'd been honest with Belle, the decorations were amazing. Five rectangular tables were laid out in the room and laden with food, each with a different house crest centrepiece, and the largest table (that holding the drinks and beautifully-sculpted book-shaped birthday cake) had the school crest. Battery-powered candles were suspended from the ceiling with fishing line and Emma could see games set up in the next room.

The food and entertainment looked perfect, but the party attendance was something else entirely. Neal and his father were annoying, but reasonable guests, as was Regina's slightly-insane sister Zelena and her infant daughter who had (thank God) not yet sought Emma out for conversation.

The other guests were harder to figure, but Emma had a few guesses. Regina had been the Mayor of her Misthaven for years and it did not escape Emma's notice that her replacement (an older woman named Cora) and several high-profile members of the city council (Emma had always called them The Witches in her head) were standing near the punch bowl. Given that context, Emma was able to place the face of the large-ish man in the corner by the drinks table into a few local advertising slots she'd seen and identify him as a judge, and the guy who'd just brushed past her with a Hufflepuff cupcake was the local police chief. (Him she remembered from her own wicked youth.)

Finally Emma was able to locate her mother in the kitchen. For all the party was obviously catered, Regina was far too much a control freak to turn over the reigns entirely to other people. Instead she was directing the staff in the kitchen with the voice of a drill sergeant and the sweeping gestures of a drum major. Emma spotted a harassed-looking man in a chef's toque, shunted to the side and glaring at her mother.

Emma knew a chef's temperament well. Before Mary Margaret had claimed the Inn's kitchen for herself, Emma had met several of the species who had come and gone in the years. Even Mary Margaret and Killian, two of the most low-key people Emma knew, maintained a low-level rivalry between their two kitchens. So Emma found herself impressed that the chef managed to keep himself from screaming at Regina. Even so, she knew his temper wouldn't hold out much longer, given how red his face already was, so she decided to step in.

"Mother?" she called.

Regina did not seem to notice.

"Mom?" she tried, louder.

Still nothing.

"Hey! Regina!" Emma shouted, finally coming right up behind her and making her jump.

Regina turned to face her, eyes wide, only to narrow quickly into a look of disapproval the moment she recognized her adopted daughter.

"Emma, how lovely of you to finally deign to speak to me."

Emma rolled her eyes and grabbed her mother's arm to pull her from the kitchen, watching, even as she did, the chef leap into the recently-vacated space and begin ordering his troops like a general.

"I was coming to talk to you but got waylaid," Emma explained, once they were out of the kitchen and in the corridor.

"Oh? And who was so important that you couldn't greet your mother?"

"Neal," Emma said, flatly. "And then Liz- Mr. Gold."

Regina's lips thinned. She had recognized Emma's slip-up. She'd nearly called Neal's father 'Lizard-Face,' an unkind nickname Neal and Emma had shared for the man when they were kids after Neal's mother had left him.

"You could have told me they were going to be here," Emma accused, hoping to turn the irritation on Regina's face back around.

"And when might I have done that?" Regina asked, not rising to Emma's bait. "One of the dozen-or-so times you've hung up on me or ignored my calls in the last month?"

Emma winced. He had been avoiding her mother's calls for weeks, it was true.

"I thought you were trying to set me up with someone," she muttered, feeling the teenager she had been when Regina had first taken her on. Suddenly her eyes went wide. "You're not, are you? You're not trying to set me up with Neal again are-"

"Oh give me _some_ credit, Emma!" Regina snapped. "As far as I'm concerned, Neal gave up his rights to you and Henry when he let you get away after you found out you were pregnant."

Emma shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know that I really gave him much choice."

Regina raised her eyebrows. "No. But you ran away from all of us, and gave none of us the choice and yet some of us managed to continue to know you. And Henry. You didn't make it easy, but if it was important to us, it was possible."

Emma looked up, and was surprised to find her mother's eyes warm on her. She felt her face heat slightly and looked down again.

"So why is he here?" she mumbled.

Regina snorted a laugh. "He's Henry's father and, for all you and I might have very little patience with him, Henry loves him dearly." Regina shrugged. "You bit back your pride once, long ago, to make sure that Henry could have a grandmother if he wanted one. I suppose I can do the same and let him have a father."

Emma didn't say anything- as far as she was concerned, Henry had plenty of fathers. There was David Nolan, who had taught Henry to drive his truck (behind Emma's back) and how to play checkers. There was Leroy Small who'd taught him poker and Jefferson Madigan who'd tried to teach him to paint. Even Sydney had been giving Henry some basic lessons in computer use. And through, in, and around them all was Killian Jones, who had been there through scraped knees and climbing trees and first bikes and Christmas mornings and serious talks and everything in-between.

Henry had always wanted Neal, however. His "real" father. Never mind that Emma's own situation had shaped her ideas of fatherhood so that it had much less to do with chromosomes and much more to do with who stepped up to take on the actual trouble of raising a child.

"He's doing well tonight though," Regina said, prompting Emma to look up again.

She followed her mother's eyes to find Neal losing some kind of beanbag-throwing game spectacularly to Henry and Grace in the parlour.

For all his opponents had a combined age of nearly ten years younger than he was, he was taking their rousing victory with good humour- cheering for them every time they made a point and laughing uproariously whenever he failed.

Emma couldn't help but think that Neal might have made a decent dad, if he'd had the balls to pursue it.

"Speaking of fathers," Emma said, remembering her next point of annoyance with her mother, "Gold? I mean, he's Henry's grandfather, but he makes even Henry a little nervous. And he's being weird to my friend. Besides, you can't stand him. Why invite him?"

Regina shook her head. "He's too important in town to fail to invite him, especially as it's known that Henry is his grandson. Besides, I couldn't have kept him away when he heard Neal was going to be here. Do you need me to say something to him on your friend's behalf though?"

Emma considered it but shook her head. "No. Belle's smart. If she wants him to buzz off, she'll tell him. Weirdly, I think she might have been flattered. It's fine."

The two stood together for another long moment, watching as the games in the parlour continued.

"I have one other question, Regina," Emma said, finally.

Regina didn't say anything, just turned to her, one eyebrow raised in question.

"What the hell were you thinking with Sidney's costume?"

Regina blinked in surprise. "I found it on a blog post of Harry Potter party ideas. They suggested having all the waiters dressed at house elves, but we weren't doing waiters so… What's wrong with it?"

"Whose blog was it, Paula Deen?"

"I didn't think Paula Deen was particularly known for kid's theme parties," Regina said, obviously confused.

"No, she's known for racism. Mom, you've dressed your black PA up as a member of a fantasy slave race."

"What? They're children's books, how can they have slavery in them? You let Henry read this?"

"Of course I let Henry read it, and how did you miss that? It's a running sub-plot through the entire last half of the series."

Regina gave Emma an annoyed look. "I haven't _read_ them, Emma, all I know personally about Harry Potter comes from the movies I took Henry to see. There was no slavery plot in those."

Emma tried to remember- she thought Regina had only gone with Henry to the third, fourth, and eighth movie, the releases of which had all fallen, inconveniently, during events at the Inn that had required her attention. She couldn't be positive, but she had a feeling that those three films had barely had the House Elves in them at all, never mind the S.P.E.W. plotline that had been completely missing from the movies- to Henry's chagrin.

"Okay fine," she conceded, "you got some bad advice from a party blog. I'd still recommend you ask Sidney to put his normal clothes back on before someone uploads a picture to Instagram."

Regina suddenly looked worried. "Do you think that's likely?"

"Well… I know Gracie's on Instagram. She talked Jeff into it about a month ago when she started practicing taking art photos. She's really good- Kil's been taking her out on the boat to see if they can get a good shot of the town from the water for the Chamber of Commerce brochures. She's not supposed to post pictures of anyone Jeff doesn't know though, so you're probably safe there. Your friend though- the one with the hair?" Emma indicated around her head vaguely. "She seems like the sort to be on Insta. She probably does makeup videos."

"Clarice De'Ville," Regina said, automatically answering Emma's ignorance of her friend's name. "Other than that, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Emma shook her head. "The gist is get Sidney to change his clothes, okay? Where is he, anyway?"

"Finishing some work upstairs."

"Fine, just be sure he's back in his suit before he comes back down," Emma said.

Regina opened her mouth as though to say something- probably to object to being told what to do by her daughter- but they were interrupted by a shout from the parlour where the games were happening.

"Mom! Come play with us. Dad's just embarrassing himself."

"Come on, Ems," Neal said, beckoning her in. "If I have to be beaten by a bunch of kids, I need another adult to share my humiliation with."

"No way," Henry said as Emma joined them. "If you've got Mom on your team, it's finally going to be a challenge."

Neal raised an eyebrow at her. "You know how to play these games?"

Emma shrugged. "Had some experience, over the years. I'm a master beanbag tosser these days." She took one of the green bags from his hand (he'd been assigned Slytherin by virtue of picking last) and landed it neatly in the hole designed for it by way of proof.

Neal shook his head. "Should have known Henry had to have learned his mad skills somewhere, and it obviously wasn't me. Go on then, Supermom, show me how it's done."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I hate to admit that this whole "every chapter is longer than the one before" business doesn't last forever, but it's fun for now...**
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> **Anyway, this is the chapter that I'm sure is going to have everyone yelling at me. Feel free to be angry and yell, but please don't stop reading. I promise, the story from here is really very good. Yell and hate me and send me mean letters in the mail, but don't abandon me! (I get very lonely)**
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> **Additionally, Re: the name of Zelena's baby: I HATE THAT THEY NAMED HER ROBIN. I guessed that her name would be Hope early in S5.2, so that's what I'm sticking with, and no one can tell me different.**
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> **Happy Fanfiction Friday, me hearties!**

Several hours later, after Emma had led a girls-only team to victory in a scavenger hunt, and Henry and Nick had dominated a trivia contest, after cake, ice cream, presents, and more jelly beans than Emma thought were a good idea for an entire year, after Emma had finally been cornered by her Aunt Zelena and spent thirty minutes nodding sympathetically along as she listened to the trials and tribulations of mothering an infant, all while bouncing baby Hope (who was better-behaved than Henry had ever been at the same age) on her hip, after The Witches (Clarice, Millicent, and Ursula, Emma had finally been reminded) had broken into the liquor cabinet, made a scene, and been called a cab, and after Sydney had returned to the party, sans costume and pulled Regina into some kind of very intense conversation for nearly 20 minutes, Emma heard the clock strike 10:45 and blessed her luck that the whole thing was finally over.

She went into the rec room where Nick and Henry were pretending to duel with the wands Killian had made them while the three girls argued the necessity (or lack thereof) of burning down the Burrow in the sixth movie.

"Come on, hoodlums," Emma said, interrupting all of this. "Time to get moving if I'm going to get you all home on time. Chop chop."

With surprisingly little complaining, the kids trooped out of the rec room and started picking up pieces of costumes that had managed to be left all over the house during the revelry. As they did so, Emma went to take her leave of the remaining adults.

Zelena had left to put Hope to bed, and everyone who didn't have a direct connection to Henry had gone shortly after the Witches had made their exit. All that remained were Sidney, Belle, Gold, Regina, and Neal.

"You don't need a ride home, do you?" Emma asked Belle as she gave her a hug goodbye.

"No, I'll be fine. Tomorrow at seven, right? Do I need to bring anything?" Belle said.

"Just you. Maybe some ice or cups- it's what you always run out of at a party, right?"

Belle grinned. "Of course. It's going to be great!"

Hovering behind Belle, as he had been most of the evening, was Mr. Gold.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Gold," Emma said, feeling stiff and not offering a hand to shake. "Henry was glad to have you."

"Miss Swan," he said, and nodded, but gave no further acknowledgment, which Emma preferred.

Emma hugged her mother goodbye. "You know you're welcome to the party tomorrow, if you like," she said, knowing the answer.

"Your friends call me the Evil Queen behind my back, I scarcely think they'd want me at their get-together, Emma."

Emma bit back an objection to this party, which had been the work of several months of planning and wrangling, being referred to so dismissively as a _get-together_.

"If Henry wants you there, everyone will be nice. They're crazy about him, that's why they do it every year, you know?"

Regina shook her head. "It's fine, Emma. I got to throw him a party, and now you get to as well. Unless you need my help, which you never do."

"Thanks for throwing this one for him, Regina. It was perfect, honestly."

Regina smiled, which softened her dramatic features into near-youthfulness. She was saved having to say anything, however, when Henry and the other kids barged into the foyer, talking too loud for the high-ceilinged, hard-floored space, their exuberance echoing off the walls.

Henry rushed up and hugged his grandmother around the waist. "Thank you for the party, grandma," he muttered into the front of her dress. "It was so much fun!"

"You're very welcome, Henry," she said, stroking his brown hair in just the same way that Emma always did.

"What else are you to say 'thank you' for, Kid?" Emma asked in a warning tone.

"Oh yeah," Henry said, leaning back and grinning up at his mother and grandmother. "Thank you for the copy of Knight's Quest 2. I think Gracie and I are going to beat the first one this week!"

Emma snorted. "Only if your teachers decide to completely stop assigning homework."

Henry shrugged and disentangled himself from Regina to go speak to the rest of the adults.

"You'll have him write proper thank-you notes?" Regina asked Emma.

"Of course," she said. She'd taken careful note of his gifts and who had given them that night. The Storybrooke party would be easier to keep track of (and less formal in the necessary response) but she had plans to sit Henry down with a pen and the pack of notecards she'd picked up first thing Sunday. "I may need to get some addresses from you, but I'll let you know Sunday if so."

Regina nodded and the two women lapsed into silence, watching Henry move through the remaining adults. He gave Belle a hug and offered a hand to shake to his grandfather. He then crossed to the other side of the foyer where Neal was on his phone, a frown creasing his brow. Henry stood there, bouncing on his toes, waiting for his father to notice him.

Emma, noticing this, left her mother's side to cross to Henry's to aid in his attempts to get his father's attention.

"It's too late now," Neal said into the phone, sounding annoyed. "The party's over and now I'm stuck out in Misthaven." He paused, obviously listening to someone on the other end of the line. "No, I didn't rent a car, I grew up here. A friend gave me a ride from the train station." More waiting. "It's almost midnight, no one is going to give me a ride back into the city and the next train doesn't go out until 9 tomorrow." Another pause. "I _am_ annoyed, this was your idea, Tam, and now I'm stuck in f-" Neal glanced around and seemed to notice Emma and Henry standing there, for the first time, Emma giving him a hard look- "in rural Maine without a plan."

"You could stay with us," Henry said, quietly.

Neal blinked in surprise at Henry, then glanced quickly up at Emma. Henry, seeing this, turned his big, brown eyes (just like his father's) to Emma as well.

Dammit, but she'd never been able to resist those eyes. It's what had gotten her into trouble in the first place.

She sighed. It was Henry's birthday, and Neal was- or had once been- a friend.

"Yeah, you can stay with us," she agreed.

Henry's smile was worth all the aggravation.

"And," Henry said, turning back to his dad, his voice excited, "if you don't need to leave first thing tomorrow, we're having another birthday party in Storybrooke tomorrow night, and you could come! You'll need a costume, but we can work on that tomorrow."

Once again, Neal's eyes hit Emma's, who nodded.

"Did you hear that?" he asked into the phone. "It sounds like I'll be in Maine for the next two nights. Yeah, okay. I'll see you Sunday then."

He ended the call and suddenly Henry rushed into his arms, already babbling about how excited he was to have his dad at both of his birthday parties. Henry then rushed off to his friends to tell them his exciting news.

"Friend?" Emma asked, with a nod toward the phone in Neal's hand.

He gave her a tense smile. "Yeah. Was supposed to come to this party and take me home after but, well… guess you heard how well that plan worked out. Thanks though… for letting me stay with you. I'd have stayed with Dad if need be."

"I know, but you don't have to do that. I know how that would be for you."

Neal nodded and glanced over to where his father had pulled Belle into a slightly more secluded corner and was speaking softly and earnestly to her.

"Besides," Emma continued, pulling his attention back to her, "if you're going to come to the party tomorrow, it's best you're in Storybrooke anyway."

"Yeah, about that party... do I need to have a second gift for him?" Neal asked, a smile finally tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Emma smiled back, but shook her head. "Just being there will be plenty."

Neal nodded, his smile turning wry. "I know, I haven't really done enough of that. _Being there_ , I mean."

Emma wasn't sure what to say to that- she completely agreed, but saying so seemed churlish. She was spared having to come up with something, however, by the clock striking eleven.

"Damn," she muttered softly, and turned. "Come on, kids, into the van, we're going to be late! Gracie, can you call your dad and tell him we might be about a quarter after midnight?"

"Already done," Grace said, glancing up from her phone with a grin. "He says 15 minutes doesn't count as late for you."

Regina snorted as Emma started herding the kids out to the van and Emma caught Belle's laugh as the front door closed behind them. She refused to look at Neal, who was shuddering suspiciously at her side.

By the time she'd closed the side door on the kids and turned back to him, Neal had his giggling under control, though he was still grinning. Emma glared, and pointed at the passenger side door, then stalked around the front of the van to climb in the driver's side.

Emma waved at Regina, Belle, and Gold standing on the porch as she pulled away. The talk from the back two rows of the van was subdued and sleepy, but Emma turned the radio on low to give everyone a modicum of privacy.

"So… minivan," Neal said, voice pitched not to be heard in the back seat. "And… Blake Shelton? Never thought I'd see the day. I figured Emma Swan would be driving that old Bug and listening to The Ramones for the rest of her life."

"This is not my van, and Mary Margaret made me swear I wouldn't touch her pre-sets. And at this hour, it's either this or relationship advice on talk radio. I hardly need Nick and Ava going home and telling their dad I let them listen to Dr. Ruth."

"You do realize Dr. Ruth hasn't been on the air in several years," Neal said, a breath of laughter in his voice.

"Her show is syndicated. And you know what I meant."

"Speaking of Dr. Ruth… my dad and your friend, Belle. That was… weird, right?"

"I don't even want to know what you think that has to do with Dr. Ruth."

"Old people. Sex."

"Shut up. First, your dad's not _that_ old. Second, it's a really bad idea to get involved in your parents' sex life."

"That sounds like the voice of personal experience. Do tell- what'd Regina do?"

"Not a chance in Hell, Cassidy," Emma said, glancing back at the kids behind them.

"Fine," he said on a heavy sigh. "It's still weird. She's my age."

"Last I checked, you're an adult." Emma hesitated for a moment. "Okay, last I checked, _she's_ an adult. Jury's still out on you. Point remains, it's no one's business but hers. And his. And anyone they feel like allowing into their business."

"Fine," Neal sighed again. "When did you become mature?"

She snorted a laugh. "Who says I have? I just have an overdeveloped sense of privacy, and I know Storybrooke. If anyone says anything to anyone, Belle'll never hear the end of it. Just… keep your nose out of her business, you know?"

"You know her pretty well then. Has she dated much?"

Emma gave Neal a confused look before turning back to the road.

"He's my dad, after all. Important to determine if her intentions are honourable."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, shut up, Neal." She couldn't hold back a laugh at his absurdity, however, though she kept it as low as possible to avoid breaking the sleepy quiet in the back of the van.

She'd forgotten how he used to make her laugh. He'd been such a clown when they were in school together- not stuck-up like a lot of the rich kids in the school were. Emma had felt so small and out-of-place in her formal uniform, too nervous to talk to anyone, and had even sat alone at lunch on a bench outside in the courtyard.

Or else, she'd thought she was alone until a low, hoarse voice from under the bench had nearly scared her to death.

It had been Neal, of course. Trying to sleep away his lunch hour in the shade of the bench. He'd sprawled onto the seat next to her and spent the rest of the lunch hour stealing crackers from her lunch box. The next day, he'd been sitting on the same bench, as though waiting for her.

They didn't say anything. They didn't name it. They didn't talk about it. They just were.

She'd thought everyone at the school had been picture-perfect in their uniforms, with their designer bags and their professionally-styled hair. She thought none of them had ever had their hair half-shorn by a harassed group-home coordinator with a pair of blunt scissors in a tiny shared bathroom after some little bastard of a housemate had stuck gum in it. They all had money and parents (sometimes more than one) and people expected great things of them.

Neal had looked just like them in those early days- a slacker, true, but a rich boy with parents who loved him to distraction. The second week she'd known him, however, his mom had run out on his dad and she'd learned that picture-perfect was sometimes as shallow as that photograph.

They'd been together a year, until he'd graduated high school. She'd wanted so badly to keep him that summer- she'd thought she loved him- and in the end the result had been Henry. Neal had gone to college, and she'd stayed behind, scared and more alone than she'd ever felt before for having thought she knew what it meant not to be.

Emma blinked and realized that her memories had brought them nearly to Gwen and Arthur's farm. The van had fallen quiet, only the twangy crooning of some woman on the radio to compete with the deep, slow breathing of tired children. She glanced over, and could see Neal's eyes shining in the dark. Not asleep then, only lost in thought, as she had been.

Up the unpaved road to the big, old farmhouse, and even the change from the whoosh of asphalt to the crunch of gravel didn't wake the kids in the back.

"Violet?" she called softly when they pulled up. "Sweetie, you're home."

There was a bit of a stir in the back, and Emma got out of the van to open the side door and help the girl out as she stumbled a bit in her weariness.

"Thanks Emma," Violet mumbled, blinking sleepily up at her. "Thanks for inviting me. I had a great time."

"I'm glad you came. We'll see you tomorrow? And your folks?"

Violet nodded with a smile. "Wouldn't miss it. Bye," she said, ending on a yawn. She then made her way up to the house as Emma stood, watching.

As she reached the porch steps, the door opened, and Emma could see Arthur's broad silhouette as he welcomed his daughter in. She raised her hand, and he responded in kind.

At the Zimmer house, Michael came out to the car to help Emma tug his sleepy children out and up to the house. Nick leaned against his father while Ava wrapped her arms around Emma's waist, forcing her to practically drag the girl up to the house, chuckling the whole way.

Gracie woke up sufficiently to get herself out of the car, and gave Emma a long hug before bouncing up to the porch where Jeff waited, barefoot in his sweats, a cup of tea in hand.

"Thanks Emma," the pair of them said together.

"Night you two," she called back, waving. "See you tomorrow."

She climbed back in the car and glanced back at her still-sleeping son. He'd woken vaguely as each of his friends had gone, but now he was stretched out across the back bench seat of the van, snoring lightly.

"You going to have to bring the van back to Mary Margaret?" Neal asked quietly.

Emma shook her head and put the vehicle back into gear to navigate home. "She'll pick it up tomorrow. She'll be the first person there to start setting up the party anyway, her and Ruby."

The rest of the trip back to her house was made in silence. Even the radio had been turned off. There was something strange between them, in the dark and quiet. Something that hadn't been there when the other kids had been in the car, but seemed amplified by the sleeping form of their child in the back seat.

She pulled up to the house and turned off the van and, for the space of three slow, sleepy breaths, they didn't move.

Then Neal's head turned to face her. "Em," he said softly, and with that word the tension snapped like a guitar string.

"I need to get Henry inside, and get you set up on the couch. Tomorrow's going to be a pretty early morning," she said quickly, opening the door and getting out, even as she spoke.

She rushed around the side of the van the long way to avoid passing his door, only to find, when she made it to the other side, that he was already there, tugging a barely-conscious Henry out of his seat and lifting him into his arms.

"He can walk," Emma said, worried for both of them. "He's really too big-"

"I've got him, Em. Promise. I've not really done enough of this in his life."

Emma sighed, but said nothing more, just led the way up to the front door and pushed it open.

"No locks?" Neal asked as he carefully maneuvered Henry past the door frame without bumping his head.

"Not when the place is empty," Emma said, flicking on the lights as she led the way through to Henry's room. "I lock the doors when we're here. He's the only thing around here worth stealing."

She opened the door of Henry's room and stood back to allow Neal to carry him in. Neal deposited his son on the bed and stepped back, which Emma took as her cue to enter.

Neal stood back and watched as Emma jostled her son awake enough to get out of his shoes, socks, and jeans with her help. As his eyes started to droop again, Emma decided it wasn't worth trying to bully him into his pajamas that night- let him sleep in his underwear and shirt. It really didn't matter.

"Under the covers then, or your feet'll freeze off," she said, nudging him up one more time as she pulled the blankets free and let him lay down on the mattress before tucking them around him.

Henry sighed deeply, and Emma smiled. "Sleep well. I love you, Kid," she said softly.

"Love you too, Mom," he mumbled.

"Happy birthday," she said, kissing his forehead.

"Mmm."

She grinned. She'd pretend that was something along the lines of 'thank you.' One of the little lies a mother told herself as her kid got older.

She pushed herself to her feet and turned to find Neal watching her with an odd expression on his face. She stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her before glaring up at him.

"What?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

He shook his head. "It's just… you're a really amazing mom."

"Oh…" Emma said, her mouth hanging open in surprise. "Uh…"

"It's just… some days I feel like I'm barely out of high school, and here you are, raising that kid and just… I don't think I could do it."

Emma shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm really not that great a mom," she said, turning away from him and moving toward the living room. "I mean, god… I let him eat cake for breakfast this morning."

"Of course you did," Neal said, following her. "It's his birthday and he's eleven. But tonight, with those kids? You know how to talk to them. They like you, and you like them."

"I'm practically their age, of course they like me." Emma said, wondering why she was arguing so hard against his compliment.

"But you knew how to make them feel listened-to, and when to give them space. And it's not just the kids- you get on with the parents too. They trust you. And Henry. God, Emma, he's an amazing kid. You have to take credit for that at least. I sure as hell can't."

Emma shook her head and dropped onto the couch. "Henry's nothing like I was at that age. God… he believes in fairy tales. He loves reading and writing stories. I haven't believed in magic or happy endings since I was three years old."

Neal sat beside her and took her hand, his brown eyes warm and serious. "Henry's had a different life than you did, Em. Imagine what you might have been like if you'd had what he has- one family that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt loves you. A home. Stability. If you'd had your best chance, you might have believed in fairy tales too."

"I had that though. Regina was my best chance, and look what I did with it."

"Yeah," Neal said, gesturing around the room to encompass the comfortable space littered with photos of Henry, Emma, Regina, Mary Margaret, Killian, and half a dozen others, "look. You may have made some mistakes along the way, but you took Regina's best chance and you made something amazing of yourself and your son. Em, that kid is the smartest, funniest, sweetest kid I've ever met, and he doesn't get that from me."

He turned his hand over and laced his fingers with hers, stroking a thumb across the sensitive skin at the centre of her palm.

She looked up at him, at that crooked smile that had charmed her at 16. At the dark eyes that had seemed to see her as no one else had done.

She wondered if it had been inevitable. Did she have a choice, or was she just allowing fate to happen? It didn't really matter. In the end, the result was the same. Emma stood and pulled his hand, still tangled up in hers until he stood, then she led him, still hand-in-hand, back to her room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I meant to warn about this last week when I published, but I lost track of the weeks and forgot. I'm moving this weekend and am not sure when I'll have internet set up at my new apartment, so I decided to publish this chapter on my last day in my old place with my old IP.**
> 
> **Hope all of my American followers are recovering from last night, all of my non-American followers are pleased that they aren't American, and that everyone has a really fantastic Friday tomorrow!**

Emma's phone rang from the night table and she had reached for it and turned it on before she had really woken up, meaning that it was Mary Margaret's cheerful voice, rather than her ringtone that was the first sound she consciously heard.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

"Ugh," Emma grunted into the phone, both unable and unwilling to be more articulate.

"Hah! David owes me $5. I _knew_ you wouldn't be awake yet!"

"I was in Misthaven until midnight," Emma grumbled.

"You can sleep when Henry leaves for college," Mary Margaret trilled, entirely too cheerful for that hour of the morning. "For now, it's time to continue being Supermom."

"Supermom," Emma muttered, the word re-igniting the memories of the previous evening, even as she felt the body in the bed at her back begin to shift. Well, shit.

"We'll be there in twenty minutes," Mary Margaret continued, blissfully oblivious of Emma's turmoil. "That is not enough time to go back to sleep, so get up right now. Are your feet on the floor?"

Emma pushed herself to a sitting position, legs over the side of the bed and back to Neal, who she just couldn't face while talking to Mary Margaret.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm up. I'll see you in a bit."

She ended the call and sat in the awkward silence for the space of a long breath.

"We… uh… we need to talk, Em," Neal said at her back.

Emma cringed. She hated those words.

"No, I'm really not sure we do. Not now anyway. Mary Margaret and Ruby are on their way and Henry will be awake soon. I don't want him knowing about this. It was a mistake."

"Em-"

She stood suddenly, interrupting him and began moving around the room, picking up clothes and refusing to look at him.

"I'm going to take a shower. You'd best get downstairs before Henry gets up," she said, allowing him no response as she closed the bathroom door on him.

Fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed, with her hair curling damply over her shoulders, and having no more idea what to do about Neal than she had before getting clean, Emma entered the kitchen to find both of the men in her house eating bowls of Froot Loops at her breakfast table.

Both pairs of brown eyes flicked up to meet hers. Neal's looked oddly guilty, and Henry's were crinkled in a smile that felt far too knowing for her eleven-year-old son's face. She was grateful that she could smell coffee in the pot. She didn't think she could handle this without it.

Emma crossed the kitchen, only to find her steps dogged by Neal.

"Er… thanks for making coffee," she said, awkwardly.

"Henry was already awake and in here when I got out here," Neal hissed, taking the mug from her hand and pouring the coffee for her. "I don't know what to say to him."

Emma sighed. Of course he didn't know what to say to his son, he never spent any time with him. Not that _she_ knew what to say in this circumstance, but unlike Neal, she didn't have the option of running away. Which was, incidentally, precisely what he was doing.

"I'm going to hop in the shower, okay?" Neal said as he rumpled Henry's hair in passing, abandoned the field to Emma.

She sighed and sat down with her mug across the table from her son who was looking at her with that too-old, too-knowing look still in place.

"Look, Henry, your dad and I-"

Henry held up a hand to interrupt her. "I'm going to stop you right there, Mom. I really don't need the details."

"Details?" Emma said, blankly, wondering if this would have made more sense if she'd waited until she finished the entire cup of coffee.

"I'm eleven, I'm not stupid. I don't need to know anything, but I'm glad you and Dad are working things out."

"Oh Henry," Emma said, the whole confusing mess finally clicking into place. "It's not-"

She was cut off by a clamour at the front door.

"Emma! Are you awake? Come help us with this stuff!"

Henry was out of his chair, spoon clattering in his remaining milk, and off toward Mary Margaret's voice before Emma had even fully comprehended what was happening.

"Well that's just… fucking great," Emma muttered, dropping her head onto the table with an audible thunk.

"The party was amazing," she could hear Henry chattering away at Ruby and Mary Margaret at the front of the house. "Belle, from the library, did all the decorations and games, and there were cupcakes, and my grandmother gave me a video game, and my dad was there, and mom's team won the scavenger hunt, and my dad stayed with us last night and is coming to the party tonight!"

"Oh, well isn't that wonderful?"

Emma could hear the awkward uncertainty in Mary Margaret's comment, though Henry seemed not to as he kept talking disjointedly about the party. She pushed herself off the table in time to meet her friends' eyes as they were led into the kitchen by Emma's son.

Mary Margaret, the quintessential mom friend, looked worried, and her grey-green eyes scanned Emma's face thoroughly before she turned back to Henry to listen.

Ruby, on the other hand, with her wolf's nose for gossip and scandal, was sitting beside Emma in a trice, eyebrows raised and impatience palpable.

"Later," Emma muttered to her, shaking her head and giving a meaningful glance toward her son.

"Is he here?" Ruby whispered, unable to let it go completely.

"Showering," Emma answered, shortly. "Henry," she said a bit louder, interrupting his flow of talk, "do you want more cereal, or are you done?"

"I'm finished."

"Bowl in the sink then," Emma said. "Then you need to go get dressed. You and your dad have to find him a costume today, remember?"

His face brightened like a candle and he quickly deposited his bowl in the sink and was out of the kitchen in a flash.

Mary Margaret immediately went to the sink to wash the two bowls there, and Ruby turned back to Emma, expectation and curiosity fairly glowing out of her skin.

"Well?" Ruby asked.

"Well what?" Emma asked, knowing it was really no good putting it off, but making the attempt anyway.

"Well, Neal stayed here last night, according to your extremely honest son, but I'm not seeing any bed-making accoutrement on your couch. Now, I'm quite certain that you were asleep when Mary Margaret called twenty minutes ago, and you've showered, which means that you didn't have time to put sheets and blankets away. I also happen to know that you probably wouldn't have bothered, even if you'd had the time."

"Thank you, Benedict Sherlock," Emma grumbled. "Yes, okay, we slept together. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Ruby pursed her lips. "No, not really."

Mary Margaret, having finished with the bowls, joined the pair at the table.

"Emma," she said quietly, her gentle voice grating across Emma's raw nerves, "are you two thinking of getting back together?"

"No," Emma said, her voice certain. "But…"

"But?" Ruby cried, losing control of her volume in her shock. She winced and glanced around, then lowered her voice again. "There is no 'but,' Emma. 'No' is the only word I ever want to hear from you about Neal Cassidy."

"Ruby," Mary Margaret said, repressively.

" _But_ ," Emma interrupted, "Henry caught us."

"Emma!" This time it was Mary Margaret's turn to lose control of her volume. She lowered it quickly and hissed, "how could you be so careless?"

"Not like that," Emma said. "God, Mary Margaret, what do you think of me? Henry was up before us and, like Ruby here, noticed that the sofa hadn't been slept on. He's eleven, not stupid," she repeated his words from before. "Anyway, he thinks that Neal and I are getting back together."

"Oh Emma," Mary Margaret sighed. "Have you told him?"

"When?" Emma asked, frustrated. "If you'll recall, my day has, so far, been 20 minutes long."

"He's spending the day with Neal, right? Maybe he'll explain it," Mary Margaret suggested, though she sounded unconvinced.

Emma snorted. "Neal? Have a difficult conversation with his son? You're dreaming. He'll leave me to be the bad guy. He always does."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Some of you have noticed (I received a rather compelling comment about it last week) that Killian hasn't been around much in the last few chapters. I have, instead, been introducing the other characters around town and continuing the story separate from him. However, as of this week he's back and will remain a central character until the end of this story, and through the next two, so everyone rejoice!**
> 
> **Secondly, because I love you all so very much, I have started a series of one-shots and missing scenes called "I Will Follow." As I've been writing these stories, I have found that sometimes I allude to things that happened in the past that aren't quite important enough to take time out of the story and write a full flashback, but would be fun character moments to look into. I have written a few of these separately and will publish them to "I Will Follow" as they are mentioned.**
> 
> **As a side note: if there are missing scenes that you can think of that you'd like me to write up, I'd be happy to take prompts for that collection as well.**
> 
> **I do hope you all enjoy your double helping of the Where You Lead 'verse on this delightful Fanfiction Friday!**

Killian was locking the front door of the diner as his name was called. He looked up to see Henry Swan bouncing toward him, tugging the hand of a man that Killian didn't immediately recognize.

"What are you doing?" Henry called, once he was a few steps closer. His friend seemed hesitant to speed up. "Why's the Jolly closed?"

"Taking the afternoon off to help your mum set up your party, of course," Killian said as he tugged on the door's handle to make sure it was locked then bent to pick up the thermal flask he'd set on the ground to free up his hands to do so.

"Guess it's too late for us to make lunch then," the man said, giving him a crooked grin. "Spent too much time with Henry's pal, David."

"Oh aye?" Killian asked, glancing between the two men. The similarity between the two faces gave him a pretty good guess who he was speaking to, though he'd never met the man before. "What trouble is Nolan getting you into?"

"Dad doesn't have a costume for tonight," Henry said, verifying Killian's guess as to his friend's identity. "We were with David trying to think of one."

"And what'd you come up with?" Killian asked, noting the small bundle of clothes under Neal Cassidy's arm.

"He's gonna be one of the Lost Boys from Neverland!" Henry answered, excited.

"It was the best we could come up with on such short notice," Neal explained with a shrug. "I'm Neal, by the way. Neal Cassidy."

He held out a hand which Killian took.

"Aye, I'd surmised as much," Killian said with a smile toward Henry. "Killian Jones."

"Yeah," Neal said with a laugh. "I've heard."

"We need your help though," Henry said, his brown eyes looking pleadingly up at Killian.

"Oh? With what? I haven't much in the way of costuming materials, you'd have to talk to your mum or Mary Margaret about that."

"No… well… they wouldn't have this. We need a vest," Henry explained. "You wear them sometimes, and you and Dad are pretty close to the same size. Close enough for this anyway, right?"

"Would you mind?" Neal asked. "We don't want to impose or anything."

Killian shook his head. His feelings toward the man who had left Emma pregnant and alone, and had rarely taken the time to be father to the result of his sewn oats were ambivalent at best, but it would have been churlish to refuse.

"No, it's fine. I was just on my way up to get my things. Come on then."

He led the pair around the side of the diner to the stairway up to the flat he lived in on the floor above. He realized, as he opened the door to the pair of them, that practically no one in town had been up there in the years since Liam had died. The Widow Lucas had come right after the funeral to help him clear Liam's things away, and Emma had come once when he'd been too sick to open the diner. She'd appeared in his living room with a carton of Mary Margaret's chicken soup and a bag full of library books, "because you're always talking about how you don't have a TV, so you wouldn't be able to watch movies."

No one else had crossed the threshold until now.

It seemed like it should have been a more momentous occasion, but both Neal and Henry stepped through the door without pause, noticing nothing, so Killian just shrugged and followed them in.

The space was cramped small and ruthlessly neat, though the decor was at least 30 years out of date.

"Nice curtains," Neal said, a laugh in his voice.

Killian grunted. Emma had said the same the one time she'd been in the place, but he didn't care to hear it from Cassidy.

"I'll go see if I can find a vest you can wear," he said, setting the flask down on his kitchen counter. "Be back in a mo'."

He shook his head at himself as he went into the bedroom. Why he was so set on disliking Cassidy, he didn't know, but he couldn't seem to shake it.

"Pull yourself together, Jones," he said to himself in his brother's voice, or as close a facsimile as he could manage. "It's Henry's day, and you're not going to let some schoolyard squabble ruin it."

He nodded sharply to himself and opened his closet to rummage for a waistcoat. He found two that might work- one in plain black suiting material, and one in an unappealing beige-and-brown check that he couldn't recall having purchased, and had certainly never worn.

Perhaps it had been Liam's and had survived the purge.

The thought that it might have been his brother's made him hesitate over turning it over to Cassidy, but he shook the thought off. It was a horrible thing. Even if Liam were alive, Killian would have given it away as quickly as possible to save his brother from fashion suicide.

"Found just the thing!" he called as he came back into his sitting room. He held out the vest to Neal who looked at it with eyebrows raised.

"I've never seen you wear that," Henry said.

"And you should probably be shot if you did," Neal agreed.

"Which makes it perfect for a Lost Boy costume, wouldn't you say?" Killian said with a grin.

"What are you going as?" Henry asked, peering around the flat as though thinking he'd have his kit hanging out in the open.

"Who says I'm going to embarrass myself by wearing a costume, eh?" Killian asked as he picked up the rucksack he'd packed full of materials that Emma had requested of him, sliding the flask into it before zipping it up, tucking a box of paper plates, napkins, and cups under one arm, and leaving one hand free to pick up the old guitar in its case leaning up against the wall.

"Mom said that she'd said that you were going to wear a costume or she'd never speak to you again."

"And who says that'd be punishment then? Make my life that much simpler and your mother stopped showing up at my diner, distracting me." He started herding the other two men out of his flat.

"Really?" Henry asked, and Killian was surprised that he sounded worried.

"Of course not, Lad. Your mum's my best friend, and if she's going to insist I dress like a prat, I'll do it because it's your day and because it's really not that much to do for her."

"Oh." Henry sounded relieved. "Good. So who are you going as?"

"Not telling," Killian said with a smile. "You'll have to be surprised this evening. Here, hold this." He pushed the guitar into Henry's hands as he locked the door of his flat behind them.

"I didn't know you played guitar," Henry said, looking at the case with curious eyes.

"All sorts of things you don't know about me, my lad. But yes, I used to play guitar. Played a lot more before my hand went all wonky." He lifted his twisted left hand to show Henry the scars that made it impossible for him to straighten the last two fingers. "Haven't got the same reach now, but I thought your guests might enjoy a few Disney songs. I've been practicing."

"Really?" Henry's brown eyes were wide and eager. "Which songs do you know?"

"Oh all the classics," Killian bragged easily. They were in the street again, Henry still carrying his guitar and Neal trailing behind them. " _When you wish upon a star,_ " he started to croon to Henry's delight, " _makes no difference who you are, anything your heart desires will come to you._ "

"You're a really good singer!" Henry said.

"I'm flattered by the tone of surprise, Lad," Killian answered, dryly.

"Oh… sorry," Henry said, looking away.

"No matter. I haven't sung much in recent years, since I haven't been playing guitar to go with it. Glad you think I sound alright, even without practice."

Henry's mind seemed to be following a different track, however. "I've got a birthday wish tonight," he said, frowning in thought. "The birthday cake at Grandma's party didn't have candles, so this is the one. The wish."

"Oh aye? And what will you wish for, do you think?"

Henry looked up at him, eyes wide and surprised. "Don't you know? You can't tell anyone your wish, or else it won't come true!"

"Oh? Is that how it works? Guess I'd had a different story of the wish economy. My mistake then, you keep it to yourself so you're sure to get it."

A loud cough from behind them had both Killian and Henry turning to look at Neal. He was looking at Killian with a narrow gaze, but he turned a smile, if a tense one, on his son.

"Didn't you say we had another friend of yours to talk to about a hat, Henry?"

"Oh yeah!" Henry cried, thoughts of wishes vanished. "We need to go over to the tea shop." He handed Killian back his guitar. "Here you go. We'll see you later!"

"Aye," Killian muttered, watching the young man grab his father's hand to pull him through the street again. "Later."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **There's a character introduced in this chapter who is a fan favorite and I have heard a few grumblings about in the comments because he hasn't appeared yet. He is here now, though perhaps not highlighting his most flattering character traits.**
> 
> **If I may draw back the curtain just a bit on my writing of this story, both this first story here and the follow-up (which will, I believe, be titled "If you're out on the road") were being written at the same time, and this character gets what would normally be considered a proper introduction in the second chapter of that second story. But, because both were being worked on at the same time, it seemed as though I had introduced him, and it wasn't until WLG and I had gotten this far when we realized that we actually hadn't...**
> 
> **So he's here, his introduction is far more "en media res" than many, but I think he's rather... well... charming. Once you get past his rough edges, anyway.**
> 
> **Also, just throwing this out here before you all start yelling at me about the end: IT'S NOT OVER YET.**
> 
> **Happy Fanfiction Friday!**

"So she doesn't actually like Chinese food, at least not the kind you can get on the East Coast," Ruby explained as she frosted cooled cupcakes and passed them to Emma for a sprinkling of colored sugar on top. "Her parents are out in California and apparently you can get decent Chinese food out there, but not here. She said she'd make me her grandmother's secret recipe soup which apparently can cure everything from a broken heart to the common cold though."

"And you can make her your grandmother's soup that's touted to do the same thing," Emma said with a laugh.

"Yeah, apparently that's cross-cultural," Ruby agreed.

"So are you actually going on another date with her or are you just going to talk about her constantly and make goo-goo eyes?" Mary Margaret asked from her station near the oven where she was scooping cupcake batter into cups.

Ruby and Emma exchanged a Look. Mary Margaret was the _last_ person from whom either of them would accept advice about seeking love rather than letting it passively come to you like a cursed princess in a fairy tale.

They were saved having to answer by a halloo coming from Emma's front door.

"We're in the kitchen," Emma called out, recognizing Killian's voice.

He appeared in the entryway to the kitchen with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Lieutenant Jones, reporting for duty," he said, pronouncing it lef-tenant and clicking his heels together. He couldn't salute as his arms were full. "Mary Margaret," he called across the kitchen, "the scent of your confections is matched only by your incomparable beauty."

"You're not getting the recipe, Jones," Mary Margaret shot back, not even bothering to turn and face him.

"Damn," he said, shaking his head. "Fine then, Swan, where do you want these things?"

Emma did a quick swipe of her hands on a dish towel and came around to examine his offerings.

"Paper goods in the living room," she said, peering into the box under his arm. "Any food goes in here, and… guitar?"

"Why is everyone always surprised by the guitar?" Killian asked, even as he followed Emma into the living room. "I thought you might enjoy having a few Disney songs as entertainment. Henry seemed to think it a good idea."

"Henry knows about this?" Emma asked, taking the box from him and setting it down with a few similar boxes.

"I ran into him and his father in town and donated an old waistcoat of Liam's to the costume cause, so you can never say that I'm not invested in this party of yours."

"Too late."

Killian snorted. "Oh, and I brought a gift."

"We'll have a table for gifts once we get things set up."

"Not for Henry. Well… for Henry too, but I brought you one as well." He let the rucksack slide down his shoulder and dug in for the thermal flask he'd carefully stashed. He found it after a moment and held it out to her. "It's coffee."

"You're giving me coffee as a gift? And without a lecture?" Emma asked, taking it from his hand.

Killian shrugged and scratched uncomfortably behind his left ear. "It's been a long day for you already, and it's just going to be longer. Also… I owe you an apology for what I said yesterday."

"You gave me a wand for that."

"No, I'd have given you the wand anyway."

"You'd have given me the coffee anyway."

He shrugged. "Then consider the lack of lecture the gift. I am sorry though. You know I think you're brilliant with Henry, right?"

Emma glanced up at him through her dark lashes. "Yeah, I do. It's nice to hear sometimes though."

"Right, of course. Well… I do. And I'm… saying it."

Emma grinned. He blushed oddly- the tops of his cheekbones turning bright pink before anything else on his face.

"It's fine, Kil. I'm over it, I promise. Henry'd never forgive me if I stayed mad at you- who'd make him chocolate chip, banana pancakes or take him sailing?"

Killian shook his head. "I'm sure you'd work something out. You're Supermom after all."

Emma tensed. "Did you all get together and decide to start using that word?" she muttered. "Look," she continued in a normal tone, her voice serious and her eyes intent on his, "because no one in this town can keep a damned secret, especially Mary Margaret, and because Henry is likely to talk about it... " she trailed off and then sighed. "Neal stayed here last night-"

"Swan, you really don't have to-"

"And we slept together. It was a mistake." She glanced up at him and then away again, not really wanting to know what he was thinking. "But Henry figured it out and now he thinks Neal and I are going to get back together."

"And that's not-"

"Oh god, no," Emma said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"But you haven't told Henry yet-"

"Because I haven't had time. Mary Margaret and Ruby showed up twenty minutes after I woke up this morning and… it's not something you can discuss with a kid in front of people."

"And you don't think Neal will-"

"No. Not in a million years."

"Alright… is there something you want me to do?" Killian asked.

"No," Emma said again. "I just… I wanted you to know. In case someone said something, I just… didn't want you caught by surprise or anything."

"Alright then, thanks. Um…"

"Anyway, we've got a bunch of lights to put in the trees if you'd like to do that?" Emma said, finally looking at him again. "Or you and Mary Margaret can take over the kitchen and Ruby and I will do the lights."

"Mary Margaret and I would drive each other mad in the kitchen. I'll do the manly outdoor work. I expect David will be along shortly and we can revert to 1950s gender roles and keep the women in the kitchen and the men out moving tables and grunting."

Emma grinned and shrugged. "Anything that keeps me from having to climb a damned ladder is fine with me, whether Gloria Steinem would approve or not. The lights are in that box," she pointed, "and we've got some lunch in the kitchen if you want. Granny sent fried chicken with Ruby this morning. If you've already had lunch, send David in when he gets here so he can have some."

"And so he can make calf eyes at Mary Margaret?"

Emma grinned. Their friend David Nolan had a long-held passion for the Inn's head chef. They had known each other as kids, but Emma had first witnessed their meeting on Mary Margaret's second day in the Enchanted kitchen nearly eight years before as he'd brought a shipment of fresh vegetables from his family's farm, and could see that David's love for the sweet-faced Miss Blanchard was matched only by her complete obliviousness to it. Mary Margaret, it seemed, wouldn't know a star-crossed romance if it danced in front of her in worn-out jeans and flannel shirts, because it practically had on several occasions.

"That's only a fringe benefit," Emma said, making her way back to the kitchen with Killian trailing her again. "Not actually the point of his being here. What's Neal dressing as?"

"Mmm? Oh, a Lost Boy. Not a vampire Lost Boy, one of the ones from Neverland. One from _Hook_ , by my estimation, since there were no animal-themed footy pajamas. What about you?"

"No idea. Mary Margaret won't let me see it until I put it on, probably so I won't spend the whole day bitching at her."

"Is it likely to be that bad?"

Emma shrugged. "She won't tell me anything about it and… well… it's Mary Margaret."

"Aye, her personal aesthetic does tend toward the… conservative. And pink."

"She did promise that it isn't pink, so that's something," Emma said. "I just hope I can move around enough to keep up with the party."

"What? No meringue skirts?" Killian sniggered.

"Or corsets. God… corsets are the worst."

Killian made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. "Now there's a cross I'd willingly bear," he said.

"Wearing a corset?" Emma asked, giving him a blatantly appraising look up and down his form. "Never took you for a Frankie Fan, Jones."

" _You_ wearing a corset, Love," he said, giving her just the same look.

Emma burst out laughing, which raised both Mary Margaret and Ruby's heads toward the pair entering the kitchen.

"What's gotten into you today, Kil?" Emma asked, taking up her colored sugar again.

He shrugged, even as he went to the fridge to dig out some lunch. "Suppose pulling out the old guitar makes me feel twenty again."

Emma snorted. "Well keep in mind this party is G-rated." She turned to Ruby with a gimlet eye. "That goes for you too. No ducking into closets with your new girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Ruby said, defensively.

"Which is why you're blushing," Killian said, leaning out of the fridge with a grin. "Who are you dressing as tonight, Lucas?"

"Little Red Riding Hood," Ruby said, turning a look on Emma. "G-rated enough for you?"

"Depends," Emma said. "Are we talking Into the Woods costume, or the one the Halloween Store sells every year in the adult section?"

"It's a good long skirt, and very tasteful cleavage," Ruby answered. "I put it together myself."

" _Hey there Little Red Riding Hood,_ " Killian sang as he came up behind Ruby to stick a finger in her bowl of frosting. " _You sure are lookin' good. You're everything a Big Bad Wolf could want._ "

"Eeew, I don't know where your hands have been!" Ruby objected, though no one took it seriously.

"That's not vanilla," Hook said, turning to Mary Margaret. "What exactly kind of cupcakes are you making, Blanchard?"

"Hot chocolate with cinnamon frosting, obviously," she said. "And you're still not getting the recipe."

"Come now, Love, I could make it worth your while," Killian wheedled. "Henry isn't back from town, so the moratorium on closets isn't in effect yet-"

"Yes it is," Emma said, not looking up from her cupcakes.

"Fine. I could take you back to mine."

Mary Margaret looked up at him and grinned. "Would you sing to me in that sexy voice then?"

Killian grinned back at her, wrapped one arm around her waist and took the other in a waltz hold that was a bit too close for propriety and swayed her across the kitchen.

"For the recipe for your chocolate cupcakes, Mary Margaret, we can make any kind of music you want."

"What the _hell_ is going on here?"

Every eye in the kitchen went to the back entrance where David was standing, a huge cooler of ice in his arms.

Killian and Mary Margaret broke apart like teenagers caught necking by their parents, both blushing furiously. Emma and Ruby started laughing so hard they could scarcely breathe.

"Dave!" Killian cried in a falsely jovial voice. "Glad you're here. You and I are supposed to be lighting trees and setting up tables and chairs-"

"I'm perfectly aware," David growled, "as the tables and chairs are currently in the back of my truck." He glared around at the women, dropped his cooler on the floor, and stomped out the door with a disgusted huff of breath.

Killian sighed at having to leave the pleasant company of the kitchen and followed his annoyed friend instead.

"Dave," he called, jogging out toward the blonde man who was still moving like a bull through the yard. "Oh come on, mate!"

David turned on his heel and glared daggers at Killian.

"Don't call me your mate, Jones," he growled. "You can't just go around… propositioning women. Not… you know… it's…"

"For God's sake, Nolan," Killian burst out, "I was _teasing_ her. _Joking_ with her. Like a bloody _friend_. Just because you've never gotten the balls to tell her how you feel about her doesn't mean that no other man in the world is allowed to _talk_ to her."

Really, he should have seen it coming, but David's fist seemed to come from nowhere, clocking Killian across the jaw.

It didn't hurt as much as it should have, and Killian had an idea that David, just as surprised as he, had pulled his punch at the last moment.

David's eyes were wide and horrified as Killian ran a hand over his aching jaw.

"Feel better now?" he asked sarcastically.

"I… I'm so sorry Killian. I just-" He stopped as Killian raised one dark eyebrow at him and then he shook his head. "You're right. I'm a coward."

Killian gestured back toward the house. "You could always go remedy the situation. Save us all a lot of grief and heartache."

David shook his head. "Not after making an ass of myself like that. No. Maybe… maybe some other time."

Killian sighed. "Your life, Dave, but if you want my opinion, you'll stop waffling and deal with it. You'll be a lot happier if you do."

David snorted. "Ever consider taking your own advice, Jones?" he asked wryly.

Killian raised a superior brow. "I've no idea what you're talking about," he said primly, though he thought he might. "If you'll remember, I was the one in the kitchen dancing with the delightful Miss Blanchard and charming the socks off the three loveliest ladies in town. You're the one who showed up to make an arse of yourself."

David opened his mouth as though to object, then closed it again, shaking his head. "You're right," he said with a weary smile. "None of my business."

"Not in the slightest," Killian agreed. "Come on then, mate," he glanced at David, but since his friend no longer seemed inclined to punch him, he continued, "let's get these tables and lights set up, what do you say?"

The two men had gotten nearly all of the tables and chairs unloaded from the truck when they heard a familiar grumble from up the road and they both turned to see Emma's yellow Bug meandering its way back from town, Neal and Henry inside. Once the car pulled up to the house, Henry was out the door and running up to the pair of them in a moment.

"Can I help?" Henry asked, bouncing on his toes in anticipation.

"Sure," David said, grinning down at him. "If your mom says it's okay. She and Mary Margaret might have another job they need you for."

Henry wrinkled his nose. "I wanna help you though."

"Your mom, Mary Margaret, and Ruby were making cupcakes when we were last in there," David said, crossing his arms and leaning against the side of his truck. "Sounds better than hauling around tables to me."

Henry's eyes went wide. "What kind of cupcakes?"

"Hot chocolate with cinnamon frosting, Mary Margaret's recipe," Killian said.

"Woah! Are they good?"

Killian shook his head. "We were not given leave to try them, though they smell divine. You, however, as the birthday boy, might be allowed."

"Actually, if you want to help us out," David said, leaning toward Henry conspiratorially and gesturing Killian to do the same, "you could bring us out a couple of cupcakes without the girls knowing. What do you say?"

Henry's face lit up. "Okay!" he cried and took off toward the house.

"Did you get your whole costume, Neal?" David called over to him.

"Yeah, thanks both of you for the help. It's good to see that there are so many _guys_ in town willing to help Emma out."

Killian glanced at David and saw, by the puckering of his brow, that he had not missed the subtly insulting implication in Neal's words.

"If Henry or Emma needs something," Killian said, putting subtle emphasis on Henry's name, "I don't think there's _anyone_ in town who would balk at helping."

"We're family here," David said, "and family helps."

"Right," Neal said with a tight smile. "Family. Of course. Is Emma inside? I need to speak to her."

"In the kitchen," Killian bit out.

Neal nodded and left the two men glaring after him.

"Maybe I should-" David began, taking a step toward the house, but Killian's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Unless you're going up there to apologize to the girls, stay out of it," he said, quietly. "It's none of our business."

_None of our business_ played in Killian's head like a mantra for the next several minutes as he and David finished unloading the truck. Once it was empty, the pair of them played a quick game of rock-paper-scissors to determine who would go inside for the lights, and who would stay out and begin hauling the tables into the back yard.

Killian won, and it was with a spring in his step that he rounded the side of the house and left David to the sweaty, back-breaking work for a few minutes.

He stopped at the corner, however, as he heard voices on the other side.

"Look, Emma, I've been thinking," Neal said, and Killian clenched his right hand into a fist just hearing the man's voice, "about… about Henry."

"Henry," Emma repeated, and Killian tensed further. He couldn't read anything in her voice, and that was unusual for him.

"Yeah, Henry. Look, Ems, I know I haven't been around for him as much as I should these past few years, but I… I want to fix that. I think Henry needs a family. A real family, you know? A mom and a dad, grandparents… just, you know… a _real_ family. I think he wants that too, don't you?"

Killian backed away. He couldn't listen to any more of this. Not in a million years, Emma had said, but it seemed that Neal had a different idea, and how could she help but want to give her son the real family he had been denied all his life?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Oh my dearest readers... I think you deserve to know that your humble author has been in a bit of a funk since the American election last night, and really wanted something to make her feel a bit better (fiddling as Rome burns, as it were, though I have less personal culpability than Nero did).**
> 
> **Then WLG and I were talking about the story which, including this one, has four chapters remaining in it, and we were talking about how nice it would be if I could post the last chapter on the same day as the new series airs, but I had one chapter too many.**
> 
> **So, to cure my ennui and to make sure that my story ends on an auspicious day, I present for you a special bonus Wednesday chapter right here, right now. Because I love you, and I think we all deserve it.**

_"_ _Yeah, Henry. Look, Ems, I know I haven't been around for him as much as I should these past few years, but I… I want to fix that. I think Henry needs a family. A real family, you know? A mom and a dad, grandparents… just, you know… a real family. I think he wants that too, don't you?"_

"Is this about last night?" Emma asked, her voice cold as ice. "Because what happened does not change my feelings about you, Neal. It doesn't mean I want to be with you."

"Em-"

"You listen to me, Neal Cassidy," Emma interrupted. "Henry has a mom. That's me. He has a father. That's you. He has grandparents that he sees pretty damned regularly, Regina and your dad. So nothing needs to change for Henry to have those things, got it? But do you know what else Henry has? He has an absolutely enormous _family_. He has guys like Jeff who will drop everything to watch him if something happens to me at work. He has guys like David who will help him get in trouble and then get him out of it. He has guys like Killian who will talk to him about girls and history and books. None of them are his dad, it's true. That's always going to be you, but every one of them loves him like crazy."

"And how many of them have you slept with, Emma?" Neal asked, his own tones going nasty.

She didn't think, she just reacted. She reached up and hit him. It was nothing fancy, just a lady's open-hand slap, but the way his neck snapped to the side and the way her palm tingled told her that it had probably rattled his teeth.

He put a hand over his cheek and closed his eyes for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "That was way out of line."

"You're damned right it was out of line," Emma said, her voice quiet but full of venom. "Not that it matters in the slightest who I sleep with, and you don't get to complain about it, but no. I've never been involved with any of them. They love Henry for his own sake, not because they think it'll help them score with me. Weren't you just saying last night how he's the smartest, funniest, sweetest kid you've ever met? That is why they love him. And it's not just the guys, he's got Mary Margaret and Ruby and Granny and Belle. He's got a huge family here, Neal, even if his biological father is not always a part of it."

"That's not what I-"

"I don't care what you meant. Whether you think we should get together or you think you can sue for partial custody, you're wrong on every count. Got it?"

"I don't-"

Emma took a step forward, glaring up at him. "I asked if you've got it. If you're thinking of the custody thing, you're going to fail and fail badly, okay? Henry is nearly old enough to make his own choice in this, but even if he weren't, you wouldn't have a case. Maybe seven years ago when I was still living at the Inn with a toddler, but now? You'd be laughed out of court, and Regina and I will make sure you are. Got it?"

"Yeah," Neal said, sounding tired. "I've got it."

Emma nodded sharply and turned away, rounding the side of the house to find David, apparently having been abandoned by Killian, hauling tables into the back yard. She couldn't bring herself to face Mary Margaret and Ruby's curiosity waiting for her in the kitchen, but David hadn't seen Neal pull her away from her work for a "private chat" and wouldn't ask any uncomfortable questions.

"You and Kil still fighting?" Emma asked as she came up to him, taking an end of the table he was working on hoisting himself. "You know he and Mary Margaret aren't-"

"I know," David said, shaking his head but giving her a smile. "I was being an idiot, and he told me that. We're fine. He's getting the lights. I drew the short straw to keep lugging tables around."

"Short straw doesn't mean you don't get help," Emma said with a grin, adjusting her hold on the table and walking backward once David had a grip on the other end.

Killian re-joined them shortly with the box of lights, and under Emma's instruction, and the three got the backyard set up quickly.

Jefferson arrived with Grace eventually, and her next-door neighbor Anton, who had agreed to donate his own backyard space for swordfights and games (just so long as no one tramples my runner beans!), and with many hands the work was made light. Emma's small house seemed to transform magically into a fairy tale palace, and the softening light of late afternoon turned her backyard into a fairy glade.

It seemed hardly any time at all before Killian, Jeff, Grace, Ruby, David, and Anton had all vanished to put on their own costumes, and Mary Margaret was chivvying Emma up to her room to put on hers.

In the bedroom, Mary Margaret first unveiled a white-and-gold, wide-sleeved, wide-skirted confection that made Emma sigh. It didn't have a corset, but was otherwise everything she'd been afraid of.

"This one's mine," Mary Margaret explained, seeing Emma's expression.

Emma frowned and glanced around the room, sure she hadn't seen another garment bag.

"So…?" she said, raising an eyebrow at her friend whose eyes were sparkling with mischief. "You insisted you'd make my costume… Henry will be upset if I don't wear one, and Killian will never let me live it down if I made such a big deal about him wearing one-"

"You have a costume," Mary Margaret said, grinning. "It's there on the bed."

Emma blinked and looked again. There was a bag on her bed, but it was a small gym bag and could, in no way, hold the ballgown she'd been expecting.

She opened the bag to find only a few things in it. A plain white tunic shirt, a pair of elbow-length leather gloves, a black leather belt, and a blue jerkin with a high collar and asymmetrical buttons down her front right side.

She turned in confusion to find Mary Margaret digging in her closet and pulling out a pair of black knee-high boots and a pair of dark-grey skinny trousers that Emma had always liked for making her butt look good.

Emma looked back at the costume and then up at Mary Margaret in stunned disbelief.

"This is…" she began.

"Your costume," Mary Margaret said. "Oh don't look at me like that. I know how you feel about princesses and big skirts and everything. I couldn't decide what to make you, but the pattern for Henry's jerkin said it was a "fairy tale hero" costume, and I figured… well… why can't girls be the heroes too? So I made you a hero costume. Henry's is brown and red, but I didn't have enough left to make you a matching one, so you got blue, and-"

Mary Margaret was cut off by Emma throwing her arms around her and hugging her tight.

"It's perfect, Mary Margaret. Thank you."

Mary Margaret hugged her back. "Really, it's nothing. It was actually much easier to make than mine and, incidentally, will be much easier to get into." She pushed Emma away. "Go put it on, I'll need your help getting into mine."

Thirty minutes later, a call came from the bottom of the stairs.

"Mom! Mary Margaret! Come on, you guys are taking _forever_!"

"Calm down, Henry, and let me tell you a secret about girls," Neal's voice drifted through the wood of the door. "They always take about four times longer getting ready than you think they need to."

Mary Margaret glanced back at Emma, who was lacing the back of her gown with a raised eyebrow.

Emma shook her head. "Kid should know better," she muttered, tugging the bodice into place and tightening the laces with a grunt. "Took him longer to get into his Harry Potter costume last night than it did me. Is that good? You can still breathe?"

Mary Margaret took a deep breath. "Yeah, seems so."

Emma tied the laces off and Mary Margaret swept around. "How do I look?"

"Like a fairy tale princess, of course," Emma said with a grin. "Honestly, you look amazing. How do you manage not to make a dress like that look stupid?"

Mary Margaret shrugged and leaned down to look in Emma's mirror. "Moments like this make me wish I didn't keep my hair so short," she said, making a face at the short dark pixie. "Fairy tale princesses should have long flowing locks."

"I'd trade you for the night, but I'd regret it in the morning," Emma said. "I think I have a tiara somewhere from Aurora's wedding. That'd be pretty cute." She opened a drawer. "There it is," she said, pulling it out from a small quantity of large costume jewelry pieces and handing it over to her friend.

Another twenty minutes of hair and makeup, and the two women descended the stairs together to Henry's dramatic sigh of " _finally_."

He and Neal were in the living room with the TV tuned to a baseball game.

"Alright, let's see you both," Emma said, gesturing them to get up. "Floor show!"

Henry bounced up and turned on the spot to show her his red jerkin that Mary Margaret had made. It was similar to Emma's, though not-quite identical. Neal stood slower to show off the jumble of her friends' back-of-closet pieces that still managed to make him look reasonably like a fairy tale ruffian.

"You look beautiful, Mary Margaret," Neal said, running an appreciative (though fortunately chaste) eye over her. "You look great too, Emma," he said, reaching out as though to touch her top and making her step out of his reach. "I guess I was expecting something a bit more… princess-y though."

"I think it's awesome!" Henry said, stepping up to his mother and wrapping his arm around her waist. "We match, see? And I think she looks like a pirate, don't you?"

"Like Elizabeth Swann?" Neal asked with a grin.

Mary Margaret and Henry groaned as Emma snorted in derision.

"What?" Neal asked, looking around.

"Mom has _opinions_ on Elizabeth Swann," Henry said, shaking his head.

"Hey, you spend ten years getting compared to a character and see if you don't get a few _opinions_ , Kiddo," Emma said, pretending to be grouchy.

"What opinions are those?" Neal asked, which made Henry and Mary Margaret sigh and Emma grin wickedly.

"What self-respecting woman who manages to be a good enough sailor and politician to get herself elected Pirate King-"

"Wasn't that Jack's doing-" Neal tried to interrupt.

"Gets _herself_ elected Pirate King," Emma repeated over him, "lets her true love vanish off on a boat for ten years at a time for the rest of always? Elizabeth Swann should be, if not captain of the Dutchman, at least first mate. I would be."

"See?" Henry said, grinning up at his dad. " _Opinions_."

"If it wasn't your birthday, I'd send you to bed without supper for sassing my extremely reasonable opinions, Kid. You're lucky," Emma said, rumpling his hair. "Someone's at the door though, you should go see who it is and say hi."

Henry laughed and ducked out from under her arm to go to the door where knocking could be heard. Emma turned and looked Mary Margaret over, picking a piece of lint from the sleeve of her dress, as Mary Margaret tucked an errant strand of hair into Emma's style. Both concluding the other was now fit to be seen, they followed Henry to the door, trailed by Neal.

On the porch, Henry was talking politely with George Spencer who, true to form, was five minutes early and not wearing a costume.

"Emma!" he cried, noticing her at the door. "And Mary Margaret. What fascinating costumes."

Emma smiled politely. "Yes well, it is a fairy tale party."

"Hmmm, well I assumed that was for the children invited, not the adults. To each their own, I suppose. Oh, I nearly forgot." He held out the covered casserole container that he was carrying to Emma. "I know the invitation said not to bring food, but I also know how much you and Henry love my broccoli cheese casserole, so I thought I'd bring you some."

Emma and Henry shared a look. They _hated_ George's broccoli cheese casserole, but at some town function, Emma had instructed Henry to get a little bit of everything, just to be polite, and they had been the only people at the party to take any of George's dish, which had made George believe that they loved it. They had never been able to convince him otherwise in several long years.

"How… generous," Emma said, trying not to sound sarcastic. She tentatively tipped the lid of the dish up, only to be blasted by the smell of overcooked broccoli. "Thank you, George."

Mary Margaret took the dish from her hands. "I'll just go put that in the fridge then," she said, winking at Emma as she passed.

Emma sighed with relief. Mary Margaret would put it down the garbage disposal immediately, dear friend that she was.

George cleared his throat, catching Emma's attention again and giving a meaningful look at Neal.

"Oh, sorry George, this is Neal Cassidy, Henry's dad. Neal, this is George Spencer, he's the mayor."

Neal smiled. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mayor," he said, accepting George's pugnacious handshake.

"Yes, yes, a pleasure," George agreed haughtily. "Emma and Henry are very dear to the community, very dear."

Emma glanced down at Henry who looked like he might explode from holding back his laughter.

"I'm surprised to see I'm the first here," George continued to Emma. "The invitation did say seven, did it not?"

"It's still a few minutes to, isn't it?"

George huffed. "My father always said that to be early was to be on time, to be on time was to be late, and to be late was to be dead."

"Well, it's a birthday party, George," Emma said, trying not to sigh. "I think it'd cramp the style a bit to kill people for being late."

"Perhaps," George said, though he didn't sound convinced. "I'm surprised Jones isn't here yet. He's usually punctual, if nothing else. Or is he around back?"

Emma shook her head, though she frowned. George was right, Killian was almost preternaturally timely- as though he took his signals from the sun and stars, rather than the easily-forgotten numbers on the front of his phone like the rest of them.

"He left a bit ago to get his costume on," Emma explained. "I'm sure he'll be here soon. And there's someone else who took your dad's advice to heart, George," Emma said, blessing her luck as she could see Belle, in a blue-and-white replica of her Disney namesake's dress coming up the sidewalk.

Henry was off the porch in a moment to meet her at the end of the drive. He said something that made her laugh, and she handed him a wrapped package she was carrying, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they came back up to the house together. In her other arm she was carrying a nondescript brown box which she offered to Emma once she and Henry had made it to the porch.

"Cups, as requested," Belle said with a grin.

Emma laughed. "Thanks Belle," she said, giving her a side hug.

"Miss French, how delightful," George said.

"And you, Mr. Mayor," Belle agreed.

"You can go on through, if you like. Mary Margaret is in the kitchen, and the food is out in the backyard. There are games over in Anton's yard, though he does ask that you don't step on his beans."

A car pulled up to the road at the front of their house as Neal led Belle and George inside and Gracie and Jeff piled out. Emma waved and took the present from Henry's hands even as he took off to greet Grace.

"I'll just put this on the gift table," she said, leading Jefferson to it as well and leaving their children on the front lawn to talk as though they hadn't seen each other less than 90 minutes before.

Gracie was dressed as Alice, and Jefferson as the Mad Hatter, huge top hat, garish bow tie, teacup, and all. Emma was pleased to see that the "teacup holster" she'd found on Etsy the previous Christmas and presented to him with a laugh had made it onto his costume.

Passing through the kitchen, Jeff and Mary Margaret greeted each other cheerfully. In the back yard, Anton and Belle were talking to each other over the fence, and George was sitting awkwardly at one of the tables, a glass of lemonade in front of him.

Emma left Jeff in the back and retraced her steps through the kitchen, only to find David had arrived.

"Oh, great costume, Emma!" he said with a grin.

"You too, Dave. Love the cape." She flicked a finger over it to make it wave down his back and he laughed. "So, spill. What's Killian dressed as?"

David looked surprised. "I've no idea, isn't he here?"

That caught Emma off-guard. "No. I figured he was with you since he wasn't at my door the moment it opened."

He shook his head. "No, I haven't seen him since I left here earlier." He shrugged and held up the gift bag in his hand. "I'll go put this on the table then I can call him if you like?"

Emma patted his arm. "No, it's fine. He'll be here soon."

Back on the porch, Emma found her front yard now full of kids. Several of Henry's classmates' parents had dropped their kids off without staying, though Gwen and Violet were coming up the drive. Violet was wearing a lovely light blue, empire-waist gown that made her look precisely like a young princess. Gwen was wearing a peasant top and bohemian skirt. She grinned sheepishly as the pair came up the front steps.

"I didn't have much in the way of costume materials," she admitted.

Emma smiled. "You look great, both of you." She gave Violet a one-armed hug, then gestured to the kids on the lawn. "There's food out in the back, which I'm sure they'll all descend on soon. Henry'll show you where everything is."

"Thanks, Emma," Violet said before picking up her skirt and running out to join her classmates.

"Sorry Arthur couldn't make it," Gwen said to Emma as they watched the kids on the lawn. "An emergency with the tractor."

"Is he going to be okay?" Emma asked.

Gwen shook her head. "He and Merlin will figure it out, no problem."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Merlin? Seriously?"

Gwen laughed. "His name is actually Melvin, but he hates it, and he's a wizard with machines so… Merlin!"

"Fair enough," Emma said with a laugh.

"So who all is here?" Gwen asked, looking around.

"Most everyone is out back," Emma said, gesturing. "Mary Margaret, David, George, Belle, Jeff-" this last she said pointing out Gracie who was giggling on the lawn.

"Ruby and Granny," Gwen added.

Emma looked up to where she was pointing and saw the Lucas women coming up the drive. They paused as a group of kids ran across their path.

"Hi Ruby! Hi Granny!" Henry called as he passed.

"Hi Henry!" they chorused.

Granny wore a costume very much like Gwen's, though with a shawl and her (unloaded) crossbow added for effect. Ruby was, as advertised, wearing a long, sweeping red skirt, black corset, and flowing red cape.

"I really love your costume," Gwen enthused.

"Thanks!" Ruby said, brightly, then turned to Emma with an eyebrow raised.

"Yes," Emma said, shaking her head. "It is perfectly acceptable for a kids' party. Very tasteful, but I'm sure Mulan will love it anyway."

Ruby grinned. "Is she here yet?"

"Just arrived," Gwen said, and the three women turned toward the road again where Mulan was walking up in a beautiful traditional Chinese silk gown.

"Woah…" Ruby said, her eyes going wide.

"Hey, remember what I said about closets?" Emma warned.

"Fine, you're no fun. So what'd Killian's big secret costume end up being?" Ruby asked, finally dragging her eyes away from Mulan who was greeting some of the kids on the lawn.

"No idea, he hasn't shown up yet."

"Seriously?" Ruby asked, finally turning her full attention to Emma. "Did he fall into another dimension or something?"

"I have no idea," Emma said giving a smile to Mulan as she finally made it to the porch.

Mulan smiled around at everyone, giving a particularly sweet, shy version to Ruby. Emma glanced at her old friend to discover that Ruby- brash, bold, bawdy Ruby- was blushing. That clinched it for Emma: those two were going to make it.

Emma led the ladies on the porch through the house and back to the yard where the party was happening. Granny took a seat next to George, intent on annoying him with her insufferable opinions. Gwen got caught in Jeff and Neal's conversation as they passed, and Ruby and Mulan were so wrapped up in one-another that Emma felt a third wheel just by looking at them.

As she made her way back through the house, she heard a commotion at the front. Mary Margaret poked her head out of the kitchen, having heard it too, and the two went together to the front porch where all activity on the lawn had stopped to witness something extraordinary.

"Oh my god," Mary Margaret breathed, and if she had been a more religious woman, Emma firmly believed that she would have crossed herself.

Emma just stared, open-mouthed at the vision on her lawn.

Killian Jones, local restaurateur and lovable curmudgeon was standing on her lawn dressed head-to-toe in black leather. He was wearing tight leather pants that would have been indecent, save that over them he wore knee-high black leather boots and a boot-top-length leather coat. His shirt was black and overtop of that he wore the only spot of color in the entire costume, an embroidered red vest with gold buttons. The splash of color should have softened the effect of all of the black, but it did the opposite. Killian oozed sex from every pore.

Emma wondered how she'd never noticed before. She'd known her friend was good-looking in a vague, disinterested way, just as she knew Jeff, Arthur, and David were all good-looking. She'd never realized, however, until that moment that Killian Jones was _sexy_.

Killian looked up then from the passel of kids crowding him to see Emma and Mary Margaret standing dumbfounded on the porch and grinned, his eyes flashing brighter than usual. It was almost as if-

"He's wearing eyeliner!" Mary Margaret practically screamed.

Killian barked out a laugh. "Aye, Princess!" he called up to her, gracing her with an over-the-top bow. "It's why I'm late, in fact. Kept stabbing me'self in the eye!"

He strode up the lawn, the swish of his coat exaggerating his usual confident step into a full-blown swagger. The closer he got, the more Emma noticed: the deep V of his shirt that put a shocking amount of chest hair on display, and the long chain that he always wore under his shirt lay over-top the whole thing displaying several charms, the small black jewel he wore in one ear (and how long had his ear been pierced?), the scabbard at his side with an impressively realistic sword hilt residing in it.

He made it to the bottom of the porch and, with a saucy wink, he took Mary Margaret's hand and bowed over it, placing a kiss on the back.

"Your servant, Princess Blanchard," he said, then straightened and grinned at Emma. "First mate Swan! Always good to see another pirate."

"First mate?" Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You'd be captain, Lass, but I'm afraid there's only room for one on this ship, and that's me!" He reached behind himself, fiddling with something on the back of his belt, and came away with a surprisingly realistic-looking silver hook. "Captain Hook, as requested, my Lady Swan. Well… my interpretation of him anyway." He ran a hand through his short, straight hair. "I couldn't bring myself to grow it out and perm it, so you'll have to make do with what I have."

"Your costume is amazing, Killian," Mary Margaret cried. "I didn't know you had such a thing!"

"Aye well," Killian said, and suddenly the brash pirate was gone again, and their friend was back, looking awkward. "I may have done a Renaissance Festival or two in my day."

Emma crowed. "Oh, that's perfect! You'll have to take Henry and me to one someday!"

"As my Lady wishes," he answered, grinning up at her.

"Jeeze, did you guys plan this pirate thing together?" a voice came from the front door behind Emma and Mary Margaret.

They turned to find Neal giving a surprisingly sour look to the pirate on the lawn.

"Glad to see your costume turned out well," Killian said blandly, not rising to Neal's bait. He turned his eyes on Emma. "Is my guitar still in the sitting room?"

"We moved it to Henry's room, actually," Emma said with a smile. "Didn't want anyone wandering off with it."

"Thanks for that. May as well get to singing for my supper, what do you say? Who wants to hear some Disney songs?" he called to a round of cheers from the kids on the lawn.

With that, he pushed his way past Neal and into Emma's house.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Just a bit of housekeeping to get out of the way:**
> 
> **There are two chapters after this, the last of this story to be published on the day after Thanksgiving in the States which is, incidentally, the same day that the Gilmore Girls revival comes out!**
> 
> **After that, I'm taking the month of December off. My job always gets very busy at the end of the year, and with the holidays and family, and all of that stuff, I tend to go a little bit crazy through December. The first chapter of the sequel to this story (and the continuation of the Where You Lead 'verse) will publish on the first Friday of January. Keep an eye out, subscribe to my page, or watch my Tumblr to be sure you don't miss it. I, personally, think it's even better than this one!**
> 
> **And finally, thank you all for being so lovely reading this story and reviewing and just generally being fantastic human beings. I love you all desperately. I hope you are all well and happy and safe.**

Emma sat next to Killian on one of the benches outside as he continued to play his guitar. Most of the kids had moved on to games next door or food or whatever movie was currently playing in the house, but Killian continued to take requests, even if his actively-listening audience had dwindled to one.

It meant more of the classics than a fourth rendition of _Let It Go_ , and he appeared pleased at that, if nothing else.

" _I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream_ ," Killian sang, and Emma smiled. He would, of course, know her favorite Disney movie and begin the song from it without prompting.

" _I know it's true that visions are seldom what they seem_ ," Emma joined in. " _But if I know you, I know what you do, you love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream._ "

Killian was grinning at her, something strange and new in his eyes, and Emma wondered if it was, in fact, new, or if she was just noticing it for the first time.

"Emma!" David called, breaking the two out of their moment. "Emma, we have a problem."

That caught her attention fully.

"What's happened?" she asked, standing, followed immediately by Killian who pulled the guitar over his head to free his hands. "Is it one of the kids?"

"Oh," David said, suddenly looking sheepish. "Uh… no, nothing like that. Just… we're out of ice."

"Jeeze Dave! Don't scare me like that," Emma cried, tension leaving her body in an instant. "Well we'll just send someone to get some, no problem."

"I'll do it," Killian said, stretching and reaching for the glass of water that had been beside him all night so far. "Might as well give my voice a bit of a rest. Haven't sung that much since I was in college."

"Thanks Kil," Emma said.

He gave a quick salute, then took off up the back steps and through the house.

"You two seemed cozy," David said, bumping Emma's shoulder with his.

Emma shrugged. "What can I say? Gotta love a pirate with a guitar and the entire Disney songbook in his repertoire."

David shrugged. "I suppose, if you're into such things."

There seemed to be something in his voice that Emma was in no mood to examine. She left his side and began moving through the party.

Her backyard was mostly full of adults talking quietly, eating, and drinking. Across the fence in Anton's backyard, there were kids running and screaming, chasing one another with inflatable swords and laughing. She watched them for a few minutes in the rapidly-waning light, and caught sight of Nick, Ava, and Grace, but not Henry or Violet.

Inside the house, the kitchen had been abandoned by Mary Margaret, but was currently playing host to a blistering argument between Granny and Leroy about his handyman duties around the Inn. Emma considered backing out quietly before she was spotted, but it was too late.

"Emma!" Granny cried, turning on her like a Valkyrie. "Tell this reprobate that he has responsibilities at the Inn that he can't just up and abandon!"

"Tell this Harpie that unless she's going to let me sign a contract and pay me a salary, I can't afford not to take any job that comes along!"

"A contract?" Granny shrieked, nearly hysterical. "I can't depend on you to finish a single job in a reasonable amount of time! How long have I been waiting for you to clear out the plumbing in room 501 then?"

"Er…" Leroy said, suddenly looking shifty.

"You see?" Granny shouted.

"Okay, okay, you two are not going to ruin Henry's birthday party with this," Emma said, raising her hands between the two combatants. She turned first to Leroy with a hard look. "Did you sign a contract with Granny about the plumbing in 501?"

He wouldn't meet her eye and scuffed his boot on the floor of her kitchen, muttering, "yeah, I guess I did."

"Right, then first thing tomorrow you're coming out to the Inn and fixing it, got it?"

Leroy looked up in shock. "But it's a Sunday!"

"And you're well behind in your service agreement," Emma said. She then rounded on Granny. "Are you willing to let him sign a contract with the Inn to be a full-time handyman, even when we don't directly need him?" she asked.

"Not on your life," Granny said, glaring over her shoulder at Leroy.

"You think I want to keep working for you, sister?" Leroy asked, heated again. "I can make twice as much freelancing in town than I can out at your dusty old place."

"Shut up," Emma shot over her shoulder at Leroy. She then turned back to Granny. "Would you sign _someone_ on if we could find someone willing to work for us? You could start with a provisional contract- three months probation then they could come on for a year at a time?"

Granny frowned but sighed. Emma knew what was going through her head. They'd had this argument before- the Inn didn't constantly need repair, and Granny hated the thought of spending money paying a salary for a person who wasn't actively working, but having a room down for weeks at a time when Leroy couldn't take a job meant a loss of income too.

"They could work on the landscaping team when there aren't repairs to make," Emma suggested. "And I can always use another set of capable hands when we've got events."

Granny was wavering, Emma could see it. She was finally going to win this argument in her own kitchen on Henry's birthday. It was a miracle.

"Yes, fine. I'd contract someone long-term if we found them," Granny said, grudgingly.

"Perfect," Emma said with a sigh. "I'll start looking on Monday."

Granny huffed and, with one last glare at Leroy, stormed out of the kitchen and into the back yard.

Emma leaned against the counter, feeling drained.

"You don't happen to know anyone who might be willing to work for the Inn on a contract basis, do you?" Emma asked Leroy, who was still standing there, dour face set.

"Mmm?" He turned to look at her. "Not a- well.." he said, suddenly hesitating. "I've a brother who… well… he might actually be perfect for you."

Emma frowned. "I thought your brother was a pharmacist. Or… no, is he a doctor?"

"Both, actually, I've one of each. Also a construction worker, a farmer-"

"How many brothers have you got, Leroy?" Emma asked, amazed.

"Six. Dennis is the youngest of us, and… well… he's not real bright. He actually doesn't talk much, but he's real friendly, and will do pretty much anything anyone asks. He's just… not much of one to think for himself, you know? He probably wouldn't mind Granny's bossiness."

"Hmm…" Emma wasn't entirely sure, but Leroy was a friend, and as she'd suggested to Granny, it would be a short-term contract at first. "If you'd like to send him our way, we could see how he does."

"Sure," Leroy said, sounding less grumpy that he had a moment ago, though still far-from cheerful.

Emma left the kitchen to see how the party was continuing in the rest of the house. In the living room, Meg sang about how she wouldn't say she was in love, low lights flickering over the faces of half a dozen kids and Neal, including both Henry and Violet.

When he saw her, however, Henry jumped up from the couch and went to her side.

"Can we do cake and presents now, Mom?" he asked, dark eyes wide and pleading like a puppy.

"Of course, Kid," she said, running a hand over his head. "You gather up everyone inside, and I'll get everyone outside, okay?"

He grinned and bounced off, and Emma turned and headed toward the backyard, surprised to find Neal shadowing her.

"Emma… we need to talk," he said quietly and urgently.

"I think we've talked quite enough for today," she said, not slowing down.

He grabbed for her arm. "This is important!" he hissed.

She turned to glare at him. "No, actually, it's not. Henry is. Listen, Neal, if you want to be more of a dad to him, this is what it takes: he comes first. Before you, before me, before anything, it's always got to be Henry."

Without giving him time to respond, she was out the back door, clapping to get everyone's attention.

"The time has come," she cried, "for cake, ice cream, and presents!"

A cheer went up from the denizens of the backyard, and there was a scuffle to move chairs around the two tables holding the cake and the gifts. Children were brought back over from Anton's house, and matches and candles were brought out. It took a few minutes, but before too much longer, Henry was standing behind the cake in the glow of his birthday candles and being serenaded by half the town.

" _Happy birthday to yoooooouuuuuuuuu!_ " everyone sang.

"Make a wish and blow out your candles," Ruby called from where she was standing in the back, her arm around Mulan's waist.

Henry took a deep breath and looked for a long moment at where Emma and Neal stood, right in front of the cake, both watching him raptly. Then he blew out every single one of his eleven candles in one great gust of breath.

The backyard exploded in cheers, and it took a moment for Emma to realize that someone was calling her name. She looked back to find Killian standing at the back door to the kitchen, a large bag of ice in each hand.

She pushed her way through the crowd toward him as Mary Margaret and Granny set to work slicing and distributing the cake.

"Killian, you are a lifesaver!" Emma said, practically shouting over the level of noise in the back yard. She grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the drinks table and helped him empty the ice bags into the two coolers.

"I'm sorry I missed his birthday wish," Killian said, once he could speak without shouting. "He was so excited about it earlier."

"Sorry, Kil. If I'd thought about it, we'd have waited for you. Guess I forgot."

He grinned at her. "Are you saying I'm forgettable, Swan?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry, who are you again?"

He poked her in the ribs which made her giggle, then gathered up the two plastic bags and went to throw them in the trash. Emma laid claim to two pieces of cake and followed him inside.

"Here," she said, offering him a plate. "Don't worry, I didn't make it, and I'm sure it didn't come from a box."

He scratched behind his ear, looking sheepish. "That was a stupid thing for me to say, Emma. I'm still sorry about it."

"I know," she said, taking a bite of the cake.

"You know but you don't forgive me?" he asked, one eyebrow going up at her nonchalant response.

"Not yet. You'll probably have to apologize a few more times, and I'll probably have to give you some more grief about it."

He smiled. "That's probably fair, but do be gentle with me, Swan. I'm fragile."

That made her laugh.

"Come on then, it's presents next. At least you didn't miss that!"

Killian followed her out of the house, exerting none of the pressure that Neal had done only a few minutes before doing the same thing.

Mary Margaret had taken charge of the gifts.

"Read off the name of the person who gave it to you before you open it," she instructed, "and be sure to hold it up so everyone can see it, alright?"

"Yes Mary Margaret," Henry said.

He did mostly follow her instructions as he went through his presents, though he had to be reminded in a few cases (David's book of camping survival tips, Grace's Knight's Quest strategy guide, and the set of extended-edition Lord of the Rings DVDs from one of his school friends all required reminders that he show them to everyone, and thank the gifter).

Emma felt Killian shift next to her when Henry got to a gift wrapped in shiny gold paper with little silver "Happy Birthday"s all over it.

"This one's from Killian," Henry said, and Emma glanced at Killian, who was looking away as though embarrassed.

She turned back to watch and saw that Henry had unwrapped a handsome leather-bound book and a good quality pen. He frowned at them for a moment, and Emma was about to remind him of his gratitude when Killian spoke up.

"They're for… for writing your own stories, Lad," he said, sounding extremely embarrassed. "You… erm… you like stories- fairy tales- so much, I thought you might try your hand at writing a few yourself."

Henry's eyes went wide as he looked at the book again. "Me? Write stories? But…" his forehead puckered again. "But what if I'm not any good?"

Killian let out a small breath of laughter. "Well no one is very good at something the first time they try it, Lad," he said. "But you become good by practicing."

"Oh," Henry said simply, still looking at the book. He lifted his eyes to Killian's face again. "If I wrote them… would _you_ read them?"

That made Killian smile. "Well of course I would. I wouldn't ask you to write stories and then not be willing to read them. What kind of a friend do you think I am?"

Henry's face broke into a wide, happy grin. "Thank you, Killian," he said, with more sincerity than Emma had thought an eleven-year-old boy could possibly have.

Henry returned to his gifts and Emma leaned over to lay a hand on Killian's arm. He was drawn as tight as a guitar string, but at her touch he seemed to relax.

"Blimey, that was more stressful than I expected," he muttered.

"It's a perfect gift, Kil," she said softly. "I forget how much you pay attention sometimes."

He smiled down at her. "Just because I'm a bit of an arse sometimes, Swan, it doesn't mean I don't care about you both very much. Honestly, you and Henry are-"

There was a commotion at the gate to the backyard that interrupted Killian and made much of the party crowd turn to see.

A pretty black woman was standing in the open gate, looking surprised to be the focus of so much attention. She scanned the crowd, apparently hoping to see a familiar face, then finally came to a stop a few feet right of Emma.

"Neal!" she cried, rushing forward to where he was standing in the crowd.

Several people glanced around, surprised at this behavior- not that Neal hadn't proven himself a pleasant sort, if strange- only that he wasn't from Storybrooke, and if someone knew him, she must have come from wherever he _was_ from to find him.

Emma pushed through the crowd toward Neal and the stranger, as did Henry, abandoning his remaining presents.

Neal and the woman had their heads together, talking quickly. Neal didn't look particularly happy, and the woman was beginning to frown at him, wrinkling her narrow forehead.

"Hi," Emma said, interrupting them. She held out a hand to the woman. "I'm Emma, welcome to my home."

"Hi!" the girl said, turning a bright smile on Emma. "I'm Tamara, I've heard a lot about you. Henry's mom, right?"

"Yeah," Emma said, warily. "You know Henry?"

She glanced over at her son who was looking at the woman with wide, confused eyes. He shook his head slightly.

"Oh, I haven't met Henry. Not yet, but Neal talks about him so much that I feel like I know him." She was still smiling widely, looking around at the quiet crowd.

"I'm Henry," he said, stepping forward and offering the strange woman a hand.

She turned toward him in relief, still smiling, and took his hand.

"Hi Henry," she said, a bit more genuinely than she had greeted Emma. "I'm Tamara. I'm your dad's fiancee."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Author whistles innocently***

" _Hi Henry," she said, a bit more genuinely than she had greeted Emma. "I'm Tamara. I'm your dad's fiancee."_

The entire backyard seemed to freeze at these words. Emma could feel the tingle of eyes on her, including from several people she hadn't said anything to about Neal ( _damn Mary Margaret and her inability to keep a secret_ ), but it was Henry's look, wide-eyed and horrified, that froze Emma's blood.

"But-" he stammered, looking from Emma to Neal, and then to Tamara again. "But-" he started again, and Emma's heart broke to hear the beginnings of tears in his voice. "But you-" He looked between Emma and Neal, and his face was so full of anger and disgust and upset that Emma took an involuntary step toward him.

Henry dropped Tamara's hand and stepped back away from Emma, shaking his head.

"Don't touch me," he growled, his voice breaking. "Don't talk to me. I don't want to see you."

Then, Emma's child to the core, he ran. Out the open back gate and into the spring dark he took off like a shot.

"Henry!" Emma called, starting after him, only to be stopped by a hand on her arm.

"Emma," Killian said, softly. "He won't stop running if you go after him. Let me."

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Neal beat her to it.

"Look here, pal," Neal said, stepping up to Killian and glaring into his eyes. "I don't know what your deal is, but Henry isn't your son, he's mine."

Killian's face was hard as wood as he glared unflinchingly back at Neal. "That may be true, but he doesn't want his father right now, nor his mum. He needs a friend, and I'm all of that. And you've a mess here you need to clean up besides." Killian flicked a significant glance at Tamara, standing behind Neal, then looked down at Emma again, his face softening slightly. "I'll call you when I find him."

Emma nodded dumbly and Killian took off in the same direction as Henry, long black coat billowing out behind him.

Neal rounded on her. "Emma-" he began, only to have her raise a silent hand to halt him, her eyes nearly glowing with fury in the low light.

"You and I will talk once everyone has gone home and not before," she said, then turned sharply to face the curious crowd in her backyard.

"I'm sorry, everyone," she called. "I'm afraid the party's over for tonight. Family emergency."

The crowd's murmur was mostly sympathetic, though Emma thought she could detect a low-note of judgment in it. She ignored it- Henry was so much more important than what Storybrooke though of her tonight.

She pushed through the crowd, barely hearing anything anyone tried to say to her, a low buzzing in her ears washing everything else away. She needed to get the kids home was all she could think. Get the kids home, and the adults could fend for themselves. She had been trusted with the children of the town, even if, apparently, she shouldn't have been.

Perhaps inevitably, Mary Margaret and Granny were there before her. Once she'd made it to them, she found them already organizing carpools with the parents who were there and calling the parents who weren't to explain the situation. Emma joined the effort, desperate for something to distract her from her silent phone.

It was surprisingly quick. The adults who were there were happy to help, and the adults who weren't were remarkably sympathetic and flexible. It wasn't twenty minutes later that nearly everyone had gone on their way, leaving only a few people behind.

Emma looked down in surprise to find herself being clutched around the waist by Violet.

"Thank you for inviting me," she said, looking up at Emma, eyes wide. "Tell Henry that I'm sorry, and I hope he feels better, and that I'll see him Monday… right?"

"Yeah," Emma said, patting the girl's shoulder and shoving the words past the block in her throat.

"Violet, honey, will you take Sean and Molly out to the car?" Gwen asked her daughter, giving her the keys and ushering her and the two kids she'd agreed to carpool home toward the door. She then turned to Emma.

"Look, Gwen," Emma said, feeling that she owed this woman an explanation. "I know it seems like I'm a complete disaster, and I understand if you think I'm a bad influence for Violet, but I swear… this isn't… normal. This is-"

"Emma," Gwen said, gently, "this is totally normal. Families are… complicated. Some more than others. I just wanted to know if you needed anything from me? Help cleaning up? Anything? I can drop the kids off and come back or…"

"Oh," Emma said, surprised. "No… I'll be okay, but… thank you."

Gwen smiled. "Violet has my permission to come over whenever, and you can tell Henry, when he's feeling a bit more himself, that he's welcome out to the farm anytime. You too, of course." Gwen patted her arm. "Wish him a happy birthday from Art and me, okay?"

Emma nodded, sure that she was going to break down and cry any moment.

"Hey Emma."

She turned to see Grace and Jeff waiting to speak to her.

"Hey Gracie," she said, softly, accepting the girl's hug.

"I'm sorry, Emma," Grace said softly, not looking up at her. "Henry was just really excited 'cause he thought you and his dad were going to be together again. I don't think he meant what he said."

"I know, sweetheart," Emma said.

Gracie leaned back and gave Emma a tentative smile. "He'll be back. He loves you."

Emma nodded again, blinking back tears. "I know."

Grace left to go into the house then and Jeff, saying nothing, gave Emma a long, hard hug. After a moment, he stepped back, hands on her shoulders to look at her.

"Has Killian called?" he asked seriously.

Emma shook her head. "Not yet."

"Do you need me to-"

She shook her head again, stopping him. "I'll call him in a few minutes, but you just… need to get Gracie home."

Jeff nodded, but gave her a long, serious look. "Okay, but you call if you need anything, right?"

Emma nodded and turned from him, vaguely surprised to see so many people still there. Mary Margaret, David, Ruby, Mulan, and Granny remained in her backyard, waiting patiently for her.

"You guys can go-" Emma began, only to be stopped by Mary Margaret running up and throwing her arms around her.

"We're not going anywhere, Em," David said, seriously.

Ruby nodded. "You deal with Henry and Neal, and we'll clean up here. You don't need to come home to that."

"You don't-"

"We know we don't have to," Mulan said, anticipating her. "But that's what friends do."

"Do they need a place to stay for the night?" Granny asked, giving a narrow look at Neal and Tamara, standing over Emma's shoulder. "They can stay at the Inn. Five-oh-one is still empty."

"No," Neal said, and Emma closed her eyes against Mary Margaret's shoulder to hear his voice. "We'll leave tonight."

"Neal?" Tamara said, but he cut her off.

"You need to go to the car, Tam. I'll meet you out there in a minute."

Emma left her eyes closed for another long minute until she was sure that Tamara would be gone, then disentangled herself from Mary Margaret's arms to turn and face Neal.

"Tam?" she asked quietly. "Your friend who was going to come to the party last night? Were you honestly planning on announcing your engagement at your son's eleventh birthday party?"

"I… um…"

Granny sniffed from behind Emma and muttered something that sounded very much like, " _tacky_."

"This is what I was talking about, Neal," Emma said tiredly. "Henry comes first. That's what being a parent is. Henry comes first every single time. You don't get to use his birthday party and make it about you. And is this what you meant when you said Henry needed a real family? That you think Tamara could be more a real mom to him than me because she's married to his dad?"

"If Henry'd been given a chance to get to know her, he'd love Tamara. She'll be an amazing mom."

"Maybe she will," Emma said, quietly. "But you ruined that by lying and cheating, didn't you?"

"It takes two to cheat, Emma," Neal sneered.

From behind her, Ruby made a sound not unlike a wolf's growl.

"I am a single adult who engaged in consensual sex with someone who gave me no indication that he wasn't the same," Emma said, her voice gone low and dangerous. "It was your responsibility to tell me about Tamara, and it's your responsibility to tell her about me."

"Or what?" Neal asked. "You will?"

Emma opened her mouth, and then shut it, suddenly uncertain.

"See?" Neal said, glaring. "You're just as much of a coward as me. And where's Henry, Em? Where's the son you're so good at taking care of?"

As though on cue, her phone vibrated in her pocket, and Emma drew it out to see Killian's name splashed across the front over top of a picture of him standing at the helm of his boat in the Storybrooke Marina.

"I've got him, Emma," Killian said shortly, the moment she connected the call. "Sorry I didn't call you straight away, he was upset and needed to talk. I'm taking him back to mine. You can come talk to him… he's welcome to stay the night here though, if he wants."

"Thank you, Killian," she breathed. "I'll come talk to him and then… if he wants to stay…"

"He'll be in good hands. Promise."

Emma nearly sobbed. "I never doubted it, Kil. Thank you."

"For Henry? Any time. And for you, Emma. I'll see you in a bit."

When Emma ended the call, she didn't even bother looking at Neal, she just turned to her friends.

"He's at Killian's apartment," she said, practically bouncing with nerves and anxiety. "He might not want to come home tonight. I have to talk to him. I have to-"

"Go!" David said, forcefully. "We'll be here when you get back. With or without him."

Her friends nodded, knowing without her having to tell them that she would need them so much more if she returned home without Henry.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **This is the last chapter of this story and, as I mentioned last week, I'll be taking the month of December off. The next story (If You're Out on the Road) will start publishing in January.**
> 
> **(The third story is finished, and the fourth story is half done as well, so this 'verse isn't going anywhere any time soon!)**
> 
> **Just a warning about the upcoming chapter, I cried a bit while writing it, so consider this fair warning!**

Emma knocked on the front door to the Jolly, which had lights on in spite of the hour, and the closed sign flipped to the front.

Killian's dark head popped around the corner from the kitchen, then was quickly followed by the rest of him. Seeing him in his black leather coat reminded Emma, suddenly, that she was still wearing her own pirate costume, even down to her leather gloves, and the very thought made her feel tired enough to curl up on the diner's stoop and sleep for a month.

Killian opened the door to her, and she swung the backpack she'd packed before leaving her house off her shoulder and pushed it into his arms first thing.

"What-"

"It's his pajamas and his toothbrush, and a change of clothes for tomorrow," Emma explained. "You don't have to let him stay, but if he needs anything else-"

"Emma," Killian said, laying a large, warm hand on her shoulder. "Henry's welcome to stay with me as long or as often as he needs, but he's going to want to go home to you. I'm sure of it, Love."

Emma shut her eyes, trying to will back the tears that seemed so close to the surface.

"Come on, darling," Killian said gently, drawing her toward him. "You can go upstairs and talk to him. Come on then."

Emma followed meekly behind him as he led her up the stairs to his flat. She moved through the small space as though on autopilot until Killian pulled a chair in front of a closed door and gestured her to sit. She did so, and he knocked on the door.

"Henry? Lad? Your mother's here."

"I don't want to see her!" a petulant voice came through the door.

Emma's face crumpled and Killian frowned. "You don't need to see her, but you do need to listen. She wants to talk to you, and you're going to let her do that."

"What if I don't?"

"Then you shan't be staying here tonight. I'll pick you up bodily and take you home where you'll have no choice but to listen to your mum."

"I'll run away again."

"Then I'll drop by the sheriff's office first and have him give me a pair of handcuffs to chain you to your bed, how's that? You'll listen to your mum here or at home, and I can promise you that it'll be more pleasant for you to do it here."

Henry didn't answer for a long moment before, through the door came a muffled, " _fine_."

Killian turned to Emma. "I'll be down in the diner if you need anything," he said, and vanished out the door.

Emma sat in the still quiet of the small apartment for a long moment. "Henry?" she finally said.

"How could you?" he exploded, as she'd thought he might.

"I didn't know, Kid," she admitted. "I wouldn't have if I did."

"Well then how could _he_?" he countered, still furious.

"I honestly don't know, and I don't think he does either, because I asked too."

The room was quiet for another long moment as the two sat on opposite sides of the door, thinking this over.

"I just wanted us to be a normal family," Henry finally said, sounding sad. "It's what I wished for on my birthday cake. A _real_ family."

Emma thought her heart might break. "Oh Henry," she murmured, feeling the heavy weight of his desires on her shoulders and in her bones.

The house was quiet for another long minute before Emma spoke again.

"I never had that, you know," she said, staring down at her hands in her lap. "A real family like you're talking about. My parents left me on the side of the road when I was born. Honestly, I should have died, but I didn't. After that there were group homes and a few foster families. Some of the families were better than others, but none of them were a real family, not for me.

"Then, of course, there was Regina when I was fifteen. She took me in, adopted me, loved me even when I made that very hard on her, and has loved you every day that she's known you. By your lights, she's not my real family, but she was the first person to ever love me like that."

"I didn't mean-" Henry started, but Emma cut him off.

"And then there was your dad, and I ran away and ended up here, and I thought you were my only family in the world." She'd never lied to him about that. "But Granny gave me a home, and a job, and when I was busy or tired, or sick, she took care of you. She taught me to sew, and tried her hardest to teach me to cook, though even Granny wasn't good enough for that. And, like Regina, she loved me and she loved you like we were her own. But she's not real family either.

"And Mary Margaret… have I ever told you about the first time she met you? You were so sick… I couldn't stop you crying for anything. But she held you and you stopped. You loved her then. I think you knew, back when you were only a few months old, that she was my sister. Parents and blood and DNA be damned, you knew it then, and it's been true ever since.

"And Killian! I can't imagine that someone who didn't love you like family would let you stay here like this when you're scared and angry and nothing makes sense. That's the kind of thing that family does, Kid.

"But… well… I don't know. Like I said before, I've never had what you're calling a real family. This is the closest thing I've had- the people here in Storybrooke, Regina… that's all I've ever had for family, so maybe that's not what it is."

Emma sat up and took a deep breath, knowing that she was about to reach into her chest and draw out her still-beating heart.

"If you wanted, you could have that real family. Neal- your dad said some things this weekend that make me think… if you wanted to go to New York and live with him and Tamara and have that real family… you could if you wanted to."

She fought not to let her voice crack, but it finally had on the penultimate word.

"Leave Storybrooke?" Henry's voice was high and thin. "Leave you?"

Tears were coursing down Emma's cheeks unchecked, and there was no hiding them in her voice.

"You… you could visit any time you wanted," she gasped out. "And I could visit you sometimes in the city. It… it might be… fun."

The door of Killian's bedroom finally opened and Henry came to stand in front of Emma, his eyes wide and his face pale.

"You… do you _want_ me to stay with Dad and Tamara?" he asked.

Emma couldn't help herself, she reached out and pulled Henry to her in a desperate hug.

"No," she said forcefully into his hair. "God no. I want you to stay with me in Storybrooke, Henry. But if you… if you wanted that real family… Neal and Tamara… I just want you to have your best chance."

Henry hugged her back fiercely, burying his head in the blue fabric of her fairy tale jerkin. "I want to stay with you mom. Please?"

"Always," Emma murmured into his hair.

~?~?~?~?~

Emma stepped into the diner twenty minutes later, her face blotchy and her eyes red, but dry again.

"I think he will be staying here tonight," she said when Killian turned to look at her. "He fell asleep a few minutes ago, and I hate to wake him."

Killian nodded. "He's welcome," he said, then pushed a diner coffee mug toward her. "Thought you might need that."

Emma picked it up and breathed deeply. It was coffee and cream and rum and she drank gratefully.

"Thank you, Killian."

"Is he still upset? Did you say what needed saying?"

Emma nodded. "I can't give him a mom and a dad and a couple of siblings the way I think he'd like, but… I think I've given him a family, you know?"

Killian smiled gently, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. "Aye, I think I do know. He's a lucky lad."

Emma nodded. "So am I. Thank you, Killian, for everything."

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug that took him by surprise. She felt him stiffen in her arms, muscles going taught for a moment before he relaxed into the embrace and wrapped his arms back around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head, where it rested against his shoulder.

~?~?~?~?~

A silver car drives through Storybrooke. The woman in the passenger seat is annoyed and not afraid to speak her mind about it. The man driving isn't listening.

As they pass the golden-glowing window of the diner, he looks in and sees two people wrapped around each other, a dark head and a bright, bent toward one another and embracing.


End file.
